In Love & War
by Isabelle
Summary: COMPLETE. Chuck left the UES after 1.13. Yrs later, economic crisis leaves the world broke & only Chuck has any money left. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but the feelings Blair has buried long time ago start to surface once married
1. Chapter 1

**Prelude** of _In Love & War_

"_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."_

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"_Poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue; it is hard for an empty bag to stand upright."_

_Benjamin Franklin_

Things always start in pairs.

She stared at the bills in her hand. 298.

Lucky numbers always started with 2. A couple made a marriage. Two years of marriage equal a child. At age 2, it's perfect for the 2nd child to be born. Two years after he left, his kisses had finally faded from her skin.

It was a lucky day.

She was now 24. Started with 2, but was as unlucky as ever…

"How much?" She jumped at the voice behind her. She sighed when she saw it was her mother.

"There was well over 350 dollars here. Where is the rest, Mother?" She snapped.

Eleanor's eyes showed her inability to afford the Botox she had once overused.

"I was thirsty," she told her daughter and turned to walk away.

Blair stared after her. Her mother stumbled slightly, and Blair closed her eyes tightly against the reality of their situation. She took a deep breath and stuffed the money back into the small box, looking around for a place to hide it so her mother wouldn't use it for vodka.

Since the room was nearly lacking in furniture department, there really weren't a lot of places to hide the small box that contained all that was left of their money. She opted for under the winter sheets. Summer still abounded in Manhattan, and they wouldn't need the winter sheets until a few months from then.

She entered her mother's room and found her mother on their bed. "Their bed" because it was the only bed left, aside from the small cot that Dorota used in the kitchen.

"Mom?" She asked, quietly entering the space. Eleanor Waldorf was lying on the bed with her torn silk robe as she stared at photos.

"Mom…" She said, more gently this time.

Her mother looked up at her. "I lost Mrs. Kline today…" she told Blair softly.

The little constant pit in Blair's stomach shivered. "How…?"

"She… Her husband killed himself and apparently there was no money," Eleanor told her, embarrassed at having to be constantly talking about money.

"But…" Blair looked around, more than frustrated. "She owed us for last month's dress!"

Eleanor flipped more photos.

"We will pay our respects to the Kline family tomorrow, they're holding a small wake-"

"I was counting on that!" Blair fumed, tired and angry.

"-do wear sometime tasteful," Eleanor continued, without pause. "I remember when Anita and I used to-"

"Mother, listen to yourself!" Blair insisted, sitting before her. "I needed that money to pay the electric bill, without it-"

"-sneak into Mrs. Kline's closet and stare at her dresses-"

"-they will cut it off!" Blair cried.

"Blair!" Eleanor shouted right back, finally pausing her story.

They stared at each other, both too tired, too exhausted.

"Winter's coming," Blair said softly.

"We have candles, you've always enjoyed candles," Eleanor told her, touching Blair's hair, noticing the split ends.

"Candles won't keep us warm, won't cook our food-"

"I remember those candles you used to keep all the time when you dated Nathaniel." Eleanor smiled slightly.

"…. Mom…." Blair said softly, wincing at the sadness in her voice.

Eleanor stopped with the picture flapping and finally stared at Blair. "I… I don't know what we're going to do, Blair. I just don't."

And her mother crumbled. She hadn't crumbled since the crash, but she did then.

Blair pulled her mom into her arms and held her close. "It's going to be fine, Mom. It is."

Eleanor held her closer.

"I'll fix it, Mom. I will. And I have that interview tomorrow at the Post," Blair assured her, petting her hair. "It'll be fine. I'll fix it."

When her mother was asleep in the bed, she rushed to be bathroom. She remembered that as a young girl, she used to puke to make herself be pretty. She hadn't puked in years. Years. Food was too precious now, and what little they had was to be preserved.

She closed the door behind her and opened the tap. Not to muffle her gags… But to cover sobs. She slump against the wall and looked at the wall behind the toilet as she placed her hands over her mouth to muffle the cries. Her body shook violently, and she had to close her eyes tightly because the world around her was entirely too real.

When her silent sobs subsided, she stood on shaky legs and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She no longer had the luxury of keeping her curls long and full. So she had Dorota cut her hair right above her shoulders, and she mostly kept it pinned behind one of her old headbands. Her eyes seemed duller and flatter; long gone was the happy shine she used to sport. A brisk wind came up the bottom of the door, and she shivered with memories.

Though she would never whisper it out loud, she still remembered his scent as he stared down at her through hooded eyes and promising looks. No one made love to her the way he had. Evermore.

She remembered, as a little girl, loving epic war films where lovers would reunite despite the war as soldiers returned heroically home to meet their waiting ladies. She remembered imitating their classic 1940's styles with soft curls and red lipstick, always waiting for her own soldier. Nate was to be her soldier for many years, but she quickly grew out of that. And then _he_ entered her life. Smooth as silk; dangerous as fire, passionate and caring despite his inability to be the man she needed him to be. The man she wanted him to be.

They were such children then. They played games and smiled triumphantly when one won. Such children.

She had remained a child until the death of her father. Suddenly, the world seemed colder, harsher, and her beautiful movies and dreams were quickly replaced by the reality of life. The threat of the impending war was in the air, and she had lived and breathed it for over six months.

And he was gone.

They were all gone.

Serena was the first to leave, a year after high school, she and Dan married (what she would call a mistake) in secret and thus began the mess. The stock market crashed on May 7, 2010. It came as a great surprise to the Upper East Side, despite the whole world expecting it. She remembered wearing Hermés and drinking _Clos du Mesnil_ when it happened. Her lips were painted with Chanel Russet Moon, and her scent was Shalimar. She felt vintage that month. She didn't think much of it – the day it happened. That would affect the lower classes. No need to worry. She had plenty. She was a Waldorf. She felt rather sorry for Serena and her mistake marriage.

But the moment she walked back into her home, she saw it in her mother's eyes. Eleanor Waldorf Designs had plummeted. The stock was useless, and the fashion industry had burnt down overnight. The house of Chanel, Gucci, Prada, Versace were useless and as impressive as lemons.

She held her mother's head as she cried that night, but she still felt that it did not affect them. Her mother's empire was only 25% of their wealth. Their true wealth came from her father and his impressive trust fund passed down since the late 1800's. But her father died a month after it happened and, amidst her tears and sorrow, she found out he had invested the majority of their money in a lucrative company… That same company had gone under during the crash.

She sat very still as she processed this. She was the sole Waldorf heir. In times past, this would've pleased her. Now, in times present, that meant all estate bills had fallen on her shoulders.

That's when the fairytales ended.

All around her, things began to crumble and crumble fast. The Archibalds had lost their fortune some months before, but they limped by on their good name and on old Archie Archibald's good graces. But Archie was 98 years old, and the day he died, he left his money to charity as a punishment for the Captain's deceit. Nate was left with as little as she was, but he seemed to accept it as he continued his tumultuous semi-affair with Vanessa.

Granted, they had a few months of passion after Chuck left, but that had quickly ended when she saw Nate and Vanessa laughing and enjoying coffee. He never laughed or smiled like that with her, and she had realized then she was holding him back from being truly happy. Plus she didn't love him. Hadn't loved him for a long while.

And then there was Chuck. Chuck Bass, whom she would sooner like to forget than remember, but they were more intertwined than she liked to admit. The night he called her a horse (because that's what he did), Serena convinced her to stay. After moping around her home for a week, she returned to school to find out that he had been the one to leave.

He convinced his father to hire him private tutors and let him move overseas. She had despised him for months, convinced he was doing this to torture her. To win a game. But no letters came, no text messages, no calls – just a passing message from Serena, his new step-sister, on his whereabouts. He did come to the wedding of Lily and Bart, but their eyes briefly met only once across the room before he rolled them and attended to the red-headed slut in his arms.

The next time she saw him was when his father died. His father died during their senior year, and she remembered wanting to go to him, but her feet wouldn't take her to him. He didn't even bother to look at her then. He'd been stoic.

He'd also been pronounced the richest heir in the world, topping the Onassis empire at an estimated 15 billion dollars. She studied him from far away as Nate and he avoided each other, and she thought he'd never looked lonelier.

The Van der Bass war broke out when Lily quickly fled to Rufus Humphrey's arms, infuriating Chuck. He stripped her of all the money she would've received from his father's estate with the help of his jazzy lawyers. But no one ever saw him through this little war; he did it all from Japan.

The Van der Woodsens still had money, of course. It was the manner of the scandal that broke Lily and Rufus up… Which in the end, like Blair knew (because she knew Chuck Bass), was what he had wanted.

All of Chuck Basses plans went exactly the way that psychotic mastermind wanted them to go.

She hadn't seen him since. Very little was heard of him, except from those who studied business and finance. He was craftier than his father had been and nearly doubled his fortune in the months before the crash.

What really and truly saved the Bass Empire was not all the real estate he owned or the investments made in foreign trade—it was a small company his father had purchased a year before he died. A company that made and sold corn. Corn production, which replaced petroleum the moment cars became too expensive to drive or own, had saved the Bass empire.

He'd lost millions of dollars, but corn was so very valuable that even his small company kept him filthy rich. So filthy rich that he was considered one of the world's richest men. The youngest and most eligible. She read about him sometimes, when she could find a newspaper. He was rumored to live abroad in a Scottish estate, surrounded by exotic women. She had scoffed at this.

Yes, he was rich, and she was now poor. They were all poor. Money had been so bad that Dan and Serena had moved out west to see if he could get work in the corn fields (the same corn fields Chuck fucking Bass probably owned). There was no work in New York. Buildings were left abandoned, streets were often deserted, and talk of the 'second coming' was on everyone's lips. New York now reminded Blair of those World War II films she used to enjoy as a child. Only, the black & white pictures were much more comforting. Wall Street was deserted, and bums slept inside. For those that still had a working TV, one channel was available, and it was downright depressing. And in Chinese.

The United States had nearly collapsed, and on most good months, they were under Marshall law to prevent crime. But crime never went out past 7pm. Once it got dark, she would be indoors. This was not the New York in which she had grown up. This was not the world she knew. People killing for food, no police, disorder and chaos. And the eminent threat of war was around every corner. The majority of young people had joined the army in their desperation for money. But none had come back yet.

It had been her unfortunate duty to sell the majority of the goods in her father's French estate in order to pay back some of the bills left behind. Poor Roman had moved back with his parents, and she hadn't heard from him since. Now it was just her mother, her Dorota, and her. In a lonely crumbling New York apartment. An apartment that they and their $298 couldn't afford.

The light bill alone was over $400, and it was two months late.

Yes. Her world had crumbled, and it was slowly taking Blair Waldorf along with it.

When she exited the bathroom, she found Dorota closing the door to her mother's room.

"I give her pills, make her feel better," Dorota told her, and Blair slowly nodded.

"Help me get ready for tomorrow's interview," she said quietly, and Dorota was wise enough to not comment on Blair's red-rimmed eyes.

----------

She shifted as the man studied the papers she had painstakingly put together. Her whole life was there, and she was wearing her best 'you should hire_ me_ because I'm responsible' face. Because nowadays, it was all she could afford. Her face.

"So… Miss Waldorf…"

_298…_

She gulped and nodded. Her hands and feet placed like lady should.

"You don't actually have any journalism experience, do you?" He drawled, looking at her over his glasses.

She blanched.

"Well." Don't stutter, girl. Don't Stutter. "I did join the editorial staff at the Yale Herald for the short time I was there."

Shit. She stuttered.

He clicked his tongue.

"But… That's a student paper… With no pieces of your own?" He continued.

"Well… I… I was more into the _management_ aspect of it. I'm a great manager," she encouraged. "I'm very responsible, highly organized, and neurotically meticulous."

He nodded, still looking at her in a slightly sad was.

"Yes, I read that," he breathed and put down her paper. "Miss Waldorf. The position is of field reporter. Not office manager… We… No one can afford them nowadays. You understand?"

_298…_

"Yes…" she said carefully. "But, you see – I figured once you saw how responsible I was and how unafraid of a challenge… I actually _love_ a good challenge. If all you have is field reporter, I'll take it."

"I understand that, Miss Waldorf," he continued, leaning back to reveal a hole in his shirt. A hole she couldn't stop staring at now.

"But the reporter we're searching for needs to be in the trenches… That doesn't mean the Bronx. It means Africa. Saudi Arabia."

She gulped.

"No facilities, no guarantee of return, no pay until the story is published… The one thing I can guarantee is that it's not for you."

"Well… I'm sure there are local stories…"

"No one cares about local stories, Miss Waldorf," he said plainly.

She took a deep breath and decided to use her Trump card. "Do you know who my family is?"

He stared at her for a long while. "Miss Waldorf? No one cares whose family is what anymore."

And he was right.

"Mr. Stockton." She grew desperate, learning forward. "If there's anything that you need done…" Shit, her voice broke.

"Would you like a glass of water?" He countered, and her face paled.

She slowly shook her head.

"Let me show you out," he said quietly. She nodded, holding back her tears by a quarter of an inch.

He led her back down the nearly empty corridor. She stared at desolate desks and dusty computers. The world seemed abandoned.

They passed by the small printing press, and Blair paused because there was something that caught her eye. The front page article.

She stared at the picture, unblinking, her heart hammering slightly.

He noticed she had stopped and turned to see the object of her interest.

"Ahh…" he nodded. "You noticed."

She stared down at the man in the front page.

"Chuck Bass," he said with satisfaction. "The last bit of American legend. He's said to be in town this week."

Memories that she'd long forgotten assaulted her.

"There's no interview…" she said softly.

"Oh yes… it's a well known fact that Chuck Bass doesn't give interviews," he proclaimed. "So we get what we can… If we're lucky, we get a picture."

Behind her sorrow and impending doom, a small little Blair Waldorf light went off.

She perked and looked at him, smile evident in her face.

"I can get an interview," she told him, and the man looked taken back.

"No one can," he countered.

"I can," she snapped.

He studied her face and determination. "You get me an exclusive with Chuck Bass… And I'll pay you fifty dollars."

Her heart leapt. "Done."

"I'm not hiring you," he reiterated. "This is a one time thing."

"You want me to say it in French?" She snapped.

He smiled, impressed. "No need. I was more of a German man myself."

He watched her, skipping slightly, a small little bounce into her step. He shook his head, the assignment was pointless… Good thing it was because, he didn't have the $50 to pay her.

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To begin…

A/N – This story will contain Nate/Vanessa also but does not revolve around them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I won nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"_There exists, at the bottom of all abasement and misfortune, a last extreme which rebels and joins battle with the forces of law and respectability in a desperate struggle, waged partly by cunning and partly by violence, at once sick and ferocious, in which it attacks the prevailing social order with the pin-pricks of vice and the hammer-blows of crime."  
__Victor Hugo_

"We've landed, Mr. Bass," Jacob informed him. He nodded at the man and brought his window shade up. He stared outside and sighed.

New York, New York. Always haunted him. No matter how far away he went, no matter who he met, how many places he saw… New York was his kryptonite.

"Your usual suite has been arranged, sir – it's been confirmed that we have the entire building," Jacob continued.

"No other tenants?" He asked, knowing the answer.

"None sir… There are very few residents left on 5th Ave, sir," Jacob replied.

Chuck's jaw twitched, almost upset at this. _Almost_. Because he had known those people, once upon a time.

"Crowd control?" He asked, looking over his business brief.

"The press has been contacted with the usual statement, and we've hired an additional ten men," he nodded.

"Excellent work, Jacob," Chuck murmured. "I expect the usual by my desk."

"The Macallan has been flown in," Jacob nodded, and Chuck controlled his smirk.

"I suppose I'm ready to face New York once more," Chuck added, only more to himself, and Jacob thought it wise not to comment on that particular statement.

Chuck followed Jacob out of the plane and into a waiting limo. He sighed when he saw the limo. Not even he had this luxury in Scotland. Only in New York. He slid into the old limo and let out a contented sound. Leather. Limos.

Leather… Limos…

He closed his eyes and shook himself slightly.

"Something wrong, sir?" Jacob asked quickly, staring at him from the other side of the limo.

"No…" Chuck looked outside as his luggage finished loading. "Just… Had a lot of good times in the back of limos… I've missed them."

"I'll contact the authorities the moment we get back to question the road situation once more, sir." Jacob diligently noted down his instructions.

Chuck dimly nodded as the city began to appear around them. His eyes couldn't leave the streets… The last time he had been in New York, he'd been no more than a child… just turned 18. His father's funeral. That had been six years ago, and there was hardly any trace of his beloved city. The city that had brought him up.

"Population?" Chuck asked, taking in all the desertion.

"Less than 10,000, sir. Most have moved to the mid-west or Canada." Jacob read off his notes, always prepared.

"Ten thousand…" He whispered, shaking his head slightly. "Any of the Upper East Side left?"

"Very few," Jacob said, looking at another page in his notes.

Chuck studied the city flashing before him, the buildings, the downcast people, the lack of life…

"Jacob!" He snapped, and the man nearly jumped out of his skin. "I want to throw a party."

"A p-party, sir?" Jacob blinked at him.

"Yes. Invite the prominent families still left, and spare no expense," Chuck explained, almost smirking.

Jacob nodded, shaking his pen to get the ink out. "Right…"

"I'll leave you to plan the rest." Chuck nodded to the man.

------

She stared at herself in the mirror and sighed. She was about to face the one man who could make her lose control completely, and she knew everything needed to be perfect. Just absolutely perfect.

Of course, nothing was perfect. Her dress screamed five years ago; her shoes were scuffed, her hair was not bouncy, and she had clear bags under her eyes. Plus, she had no face powder left. None. She had tried to sleep, really had tried, but her mother's shivering next to her and the impending doom of having to speak once more to that self-righteous, rich Basstard was making her head spin.

She knew him. He would know she needed something. He would be able to tell by the way her nails lacked a proper manicure. But she would have to do it. Fifty dollars. If she could sell a few more pieces of her grandmother's jewelry, she would be able to pay the electric bill. Those were the thoughts that kept her up, tossing and turning late at night.

But she'd need a bit more for food and firewood… God… She sighed. Her neck was tense; her fists were clenched. She couldn't face Chuck Bass like this.

She brushed her hair once more and nodded. This was it. She had to do it.

"Dorota," she called into the kitchen where her mother ate oatmeal silently as she re-read her old fashion magazines.

"Yes, Miss Blair." Dorota came into view. No longer dressed in her stiff starchy apron of old, but a more comfortable pair of old slacks and a sweater. Because the old uniforms were simply covered in holes and stains.

"I'm heading out to do my interview," she said, staring at the way her mother looked down at the oatmeal before her.

"You haven't had anything to eat." Dorota looked displeased. Still fretting over her. She was twenty-four years old, and Dorota still fretted over her, as if she were a little girl. Well… She supposed someone had to care for her.

"I'm not hungry," she lied, because she knew exactly how much oatmeal was left.

Dorota didn't believe her.

"Plus, they'll be food at my interview." That she knew was true. Chuck Bass always loved his breakfast.

This pleased her maid.

Not that Dorota could even be considered a maid. They didn't pay her anymore. But she was family, plus Dorota's family was in the Ukraine, and no one could afford to travel anymore… So she really didn't have anywhere else to go but to the streets, and Blair would never let that happen.

"How do I look?" Blair asked Dorota, and the maid nodded.

"Very beautiful, Miss Blair." Dorota smiled at her.

"Good," Blair said, nodding tersely. "Mom… Mind Dorota, ok?"

Eleanor continued looking at her magazines. They were falling apart. No publishing house had printed a fashion magazine in over five years.

"I'll stop by the old recycling plant building and see if I can find you any new ones you haven't read, ok?" She said to her, touching her hair.

Eleanor seemed to realize Blair was next to her and looked up. "Blair…" She took in her appearance. "… You look lovely."

"Thank you, Mother." Blair kissed the top of her head.

"You have no perfume on," Eleanor noted.

Blair swallowed and looked away. "I know." The last bit of her Chanel no.5 had been used over a year ago. Now she only wore Blair's natural musk.

"And your nails are not done," she commented with a far-away look.

"Mom…" Blair shook her head slowly. "I have my interview. I'm leaving."

She turned to leave.

"Who are you interviewing?" Eleanor inquired, seeming to come out of her haze.

"Oh!" Blair decided to go with nonchalance. "An old family friend. You remember Chuck Bass?"

Dorota stopped her stirring on the stove and stared at her, because Dorota knew well and good the sort of things that had involved Chuck Bass during her junior year in high school.

"Miss Blair." Dorota looked disapproving.

"With my new and important position, I'm interviewing him," Blair continued, unfazed. "I should be back after lunch."

She walked to Dorota while Eleanor looked like she was trying to put a puzzle piece together in her head.

"Make sure she eats all the oatmeal," Blair whispered to Dorota. Dorota nodded, still not happy about her assignment.

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She stared up at the building.

She cursed internally. Leave it to Chuck Bass to rent out an _entire_ New York fifth avenue building all for him and his lonely self… And the three hundred whores that were sure to be currently attached to all parts of his body.

Ugh.

She pushed the door open and almost stopped breathing as she noticed all the upkeeps had been kept in this particular building. Shiny floor, golden light from the stunning chandelier, fresh flowers… She felt herself reminiscing on old times when none of this grandeur would've deterred her. She wouldn't have even noticed it.

The one difference, of course, was that in old times, there wouldn't be four armed men before the elevator. Something like a doorman with a tasteful accent and clean shave would've sufficed.

But these were different times.

The men went into attention when they saw her, taking in her appearance. She held her chin high, mustering up the courage of the lady she still was. She wasn't dressed provocatively… Put women hardly put effort into their attire (mostly because there was no attire left), and much less ever accompanied it with red lipstick.

"Private property, Miss," The one in the front told her, but eyed her appreciatively.

She cleared her throat. "Of course it is, you fool," she snapped. She was most certainly not going to be talked like this by the help. "I'm a personal friend of Mr. Bass."

The man attempted not to smile.

"_Personal_, are you?" He sneered.

She gulped.

"I insist that you inform him that I am here to see him," she replied, ignoring his insinuation. "At once."

"Mr. Bass is not expecting you," another put in.

"Mr. Bass _will_ see me," she said forcefully.

"No. He will not. Now, be a good girl and go off," he replied. "My shift ends at 5, by the way."

He winked at her, and she gasped.

"How _dare_ you!" She snapped. "Do you have any idea who I am? I will make sure Mr. Bass replaces you immediately."

"Don't care who anyone is except for Mr. Bass," the other countered. "And Mr. Bass did not request a lady friend."

She blushed an angry, crimson red. So… He called in whores like delivery food. Typical.

"I am most certainly _not_ what you're insinuating, and I demand you let Chuck Bass know that Blair Waldorf is here to see him!" She snapped. "And I'm not leaving until you tell him."

The elevator door opened at the moment and Blair's stomach clenched painfully. She would never live if Chuck found her arguing with his help, demanding to see him and making a spectacle of herself.

_298…_

She held her chin high, fully expecting him to waltz out in a mint-green suit. Instead, out came a short, thin man with thinning hay-colored hair, small glasses, and pursed lips. Dressed in an impeccable but forgettable black suit and holding a planner in his hand that looked like it had seen better days. His eyes traveled glossily over her and her appearance as he spared her a look, then turned to one of the guards and whispered to him.

"She's wanting to see Mr. Bass," the guard murmured, and Blair scoffed, placing her hands on her hips.

"No one sees Mr. Bass," the thin man murmured back, looking at her over his glasses.

"I told her, sir. She says she's a _personal_ friend of Mr. Bass," the guard continued.

Blair's nostrils flared once more.

The thin man stopped, raised a brow, and quickly opened his planner, scanning, scanning and then frowning.

"I don't have any scheduled," he stated. "Get rid of her before he hears this ridiculous commotion."

Blair's mouth fell opened.

"Excuse me!" She snapped at the man. "I will most certainly _not_ be dismissed! I am a personal, childhood friend of Chuck Bass, and if you do not tell him at this instance that Blair Waldorf is here to see him, I will personally make sure he fires you and your incompetent…" She gestured to the guard. "….staff."

The man stared at her for a moment.

"Alex," the man finally said, and the guard nodded. He walked forward and went to grab her. Blair, of course, let out a high pitched scream of indignation as he dragged her outside.

"Let go of me!" She shouted.

"No fussing, Miss." He held her as if she weighed nothing – which she didn't.

"How dare you!" She continued protesting all the way until the fresh cool air from outside hit her face, and she was back on the streets.

"Five o'clock, baby." He winked at her, and she fumed at the grotesque man. She stared up at the building when he went in, and she felt those tears that were now constantly at the tip of her lashes treated to come out… But she was resolved.

He wanted a story about Chuck Bass? She would give him a story about Chuck Bass. A story all the world would want to hear. She glared and turned swiftly.

-----------

As he poured his scotch, he turned to look at Jacob as the man entered his private quarters.

"Alex tells me there was quite a ruckus downstairs," he smirked.

Jacob paused and stared at Chuck. "Alex has an overly active mouth."

Chuck gave the man a full smile.

"I do apologize, Sir. I thought it wise not to bother you about it." Jacob instantly snapped back into perfect assistant mode.

Chuck twirled the scotch in his cup.

"Reporters?" He asked.

"Most likely," Jacob responded.

"You don't know?" He inquired, intrigued. There was hardly anything Jacob didn't know.

Jacob cleared his throat. "No, of course. Yes, Sir."

Chuck raised a brow.

"A young lady," Jacob explained.

Chuck's brow rose even higher.

"Presumably either a reporter or a desperate soul-"

"I don't mind either," he smirked.

"-Claimed that she knew you-"

"Known many a woman in New York." Chuck sat down and kicked off his slippers.

"Exactly – I thought it wise to have her removed from the premises, sir." He pushed his glasses up as Chuck took a sip of his drink.

"Good man." Chuck nodded.

"Elisa, of course, is scheduled to join you at 1pm. And Sir, if I may – isn't it a bit early for your drink? I can have your breakfast-"

"Not interested in breakfast."

"But you always have breakfast."

"Not hungry. Just thirsty." Chuck saluted with his cup.

Jacob studied him. "You don't care for New York, Sir?"

"I don't particularly care for it, no," Chuck assented. "At least not this New York. The New York of my childhood was quite different."

"Of course…" Jacob shifted.

"So… What was her name?" Chuck inquired.

"Whose name?" Jacob blinked.

"The desperate soul." Chuck looked out his window at the decaying New York City.

"Humm… Claire. I believe it was Claire," he replied, searching his memory.

Chuck frowned, trying to remember. "Known many Claires."

"Claire… Oh, yes. Apologies, Sir. Claire Waldorf," Jacob smiled triumphantly.

Chuck froze. His drink held mid-mouth and eyes darkened. He slowly turned to Jacob and pinned him with a dark gaze.

"_Claire_ Waldorf?" He hissed. "Or _Blair_ Waldorf."

Jacob stopped and stared at him. "I…. I…"

Chuck stood and began to pace, his liquor forgotten as his hands played with his pockets and his neck stiffened.

Blair. Blair Waldorf.

Fuck. Shit. Dammit.

Kryptonite.

That's what his old friend Martin had called her. Martin was now dead, and his words still lingered. Lingered, haunted him, teased him.

Blair Waldorf.

Ruby lips, ample hips, small waist, ivory skin… Doe-eyed, small hands… Freckle on the left shoulder, where she smelled like freesias. Back of the limo. Destruction of Nathaniel and him.

Kryptonite.

He let out a breath.

His last words to her had been how much he didn't want her when all he wanted to do was have her, possess her, keep her…

Fuck. Shit. Dammit.

He remembered her as a child, stubborn, proud, and absolutely beautiful. With pink cheeks as she played in the snow, always making sure her fur coat was undamaged and her patent leather black Mary Janes remained un-scuffed.

Always running after Nathaniel… Always…

But she had lost it to him. _Him_. For moments there, she had been his. All his. The need and desperation to have her had driven him out of New York. The thought of Nathaniel one day forgiving her and seeing her in his arms once more made him want to try out his new .45 on his temple.

But he'd been ridiculously dramatic then.

No need for theatrics now. He was a man now.

"Sir?" Jacob interrupted his thoughts, a worried look in his eyes. He realized he'd not only let a wall down, but the whole house. The whole fucking house.

Quickly the walls were brought back up.

"Should I have not sent her away?" Jacob looked right down scared.

Chuck stared at him. "How did she…"

Jacob shifted and stuttered. "She looked quite the lady, sir."

Chuck smiled. This gave him a warm feeling – which he quickly pushed away. He didn't give a crap what happened to the Waldorfs.

"Did she say what she wanted?" He finished quietly.

"Wanted to see you, Sir. I can go fetch her, if you would like," Jacob suggested, and Chuck turned to study him and the implication of his words.

"Did… Did someone _touch_ her?" He asked, his voice low and hard.

He saw it. There in Jacob's eyes as the man swallowed.

"Who?" Chuck inquired.

"A-Alex…" Jacob stuttered.

And Chuck remembered the gloating look in Alex's eyes as he recounted the girl downstairs with a killer ass. He felt his temper rise and go out his ears until he felt deaf, blind, and mute.

"Fire him," Chuck said simply.

Jacob just nodded, surprised, confused, and concerned at his words.

"And… Find out all you can about her. Everything. Every _single_ detail," he ground out.

Jacob nodded, jotting down all he could as he followed Chuck around.

"Why she was here, where is she living, does she have contact with her friends, her financial situation, EVERYTHING." He stopped in front of his bedroom and turned sharply to Jacob. "And make sure it's detailed, precise, and descriptive. I want it by lunch."

"Sir-"

But the door had slammed on his face. He took a second to stare at it. A hundred and one implications of what exactly this could and would mean.

Chuck Bass… No… He would never. He thought back to the girl as she stared him down. The same determination… The same forcefulness… He shook his head and went to work.

-----------

She stormed into the house, stomping up the stairs and entering her old room. She scanned it, and there she found it. Underneath piles of useless porcelain was her old laptop. She walked to it and picked it up, all the china fumbling down and crashing at her feet.

Computers. The one thing she couldn't get money for. High-tech technology like this was useless because there was no internet.

She took it to the kitchen were Dorota was opening some cans and set it on the kitchen table. The maid paused and stared at her. She grabbed all her mother's old magazines, and nearly threw them on the floor as she huffed about, adding the power cable to the wall.

"Miss Blair…" Dorota blinked at her.

"I'm working, Dorota," She huffed as she turned on her laptop. She nearly squealed when it turned on. It had been years. It was dusty and a bit scuffed, but it worked. That's what mattered.

"Are you alright, Miss Blair? Did you see Mister Chuck?" She inquired.

Blair typed in her old password and smiled as the Windows sound came about. It really had been years.

"Mister Chuck can go screw himself," Blair snapped.

Dorota's brows rose.

"Chuck will do no such thing."

Both Dorota and her paused, as she turned to look at her mother who was looking more put together than she'd seen her in months. Maybe years.

"Mom?" Blair stood and stared at her.

"Dorota, will you give us a moment?" Eleanor stated, using the voice that Blair had grown up knowing as she ordered her staff around.

Blair stared at her mother, unsure if she had finally lost it – or if she had gained it. She didn't know what the hell was happening.

Eleanor waited until the nervous Dorota left and turned to Blair.

"Did you see Chuck?" She asked.

"I… What's going on, mother?" She asked, hands on her hips.

"Did you see him? Did he see you?" She walked around Blair casually.

"Why do you ask?" She inquired.

"You always thought I didn't know, but I knew, Blair. Knew what you did with your life… At first, I saw it as a bad thing. But then Nathaniel was back in your life, and all was well once more."

Blair gulped, her eyes wide.

"But I knew about you and Chuck. Sneaking him in when I was away, pretending it wasn't him you talked to on the phone," Eleanor continued, and the manner she was stating this made Blair's blood freeze.

"I was a child. We were children," Blair countered.

"Yes… You were. You were children on your ninth birthday party when he bought you a perfume which you ignored in favor of Nathaniel's flowers," Eleanor smiled.

Blair's stomach clenched.

"You _know_ what you have to do." Eleanor's voice was low and chilling.

She hadn't heard her mother talk like this… Ever.

"Mother-"

"Always staring at you, always staring…" Eleanor smiled slightly. "Always… He was always quite taken by you."

"He was not," Blair insisted.

"Oh, he was…" Eleanor nodded, still rounding her like a vulture. "A fascination like that… Such unprecedented luck has been shown to us here, Blair."

Blair shook her head. "What are you talking about? I couldn't even get him to see him in order to make fifty lousy dollars!"

"We're not talking fifty dollars, Blair." Eleanor came closer. "Imagine… Just imagine… Our things restored, no more worries about where the money would come from… None."

It felt to Blair like little tiny needles were entering her skin from all directions.

"How _exactly_?" she snapped, eyes narrowed.

Eleanor stood before her, touching her face, hair, shoulders…

"He cares for you…"

Blair shook her head, unwilling to believe her mother was losing it at such a rapid rate.

She tried to pull herself away from her mother's grasp.

"Blair listen to me! Listen!" Eleanor told her desperately. Blair saw in her mother the fear, a fear so great that it was eating her alive. Desperation. Wild eyes. "After your father died… There's nothing left, Blair, you know this," Eleanor whispered, touching Blair's pearl-face.

Blair's struggles seized as she breathed in. "I wont do it, Mother," she whispered, eyes closed.

Eleanor's breath was at her ear.

"If he cares for you the way I know he does…" Her mother tucked her dry roots behind her ear. "… Then give him what he wants. Give it all…" The whispers were hisses. "Marry Chuck Bass."

Blair's blood was cold and breaking.

"You may even love him one day… He's the only one with any money left. Marry him. Marry him and save us. You can save us all, Blair."

"I can save you, you mean?" She spat.

"Save yourself, Blair!" Eleanor cried.

"Chuck Bass left my life a long time ago… I haven't thought about him since," Blair whispered. "I will not do that to him."

"Oh, you will… You were raised to be a princess… And he's the only prince left. You need no other reason."

----------

To be continued

A/N – Let me clarify. The Nate/Vanessa storyline is used to bring CB together. It is not prominent and they don't even have a scene together.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2 of _In Love & War  
__The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I won nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_For the life of me I cannot remember  
__What made us think that we were wise and we'd never compromise."  
__The Freshman – The Verve Pipe_

She stared at her mother, disbelief running through her. She felt so very sick that she could pass out at that very moment.

"Oh, God…" She whispered. "You've completely lost it…"

"No, Blair – listen –"

"No!" Blair shouted, wrenching herself from her mother's crazed hands. "No."

Eleanor's eyes were wide and they frightened Blair so much that she had to back away.

"I'm not _prostituting _myself for money," she hissed, walking back and forth on the kitchen.

She had no money, no dignity, no home, no mother – what the hell did she have left? Nothing. She had jack shit. Jack fucking shit. She needed to calm down before she had a true Waldorf breakdown. And they had run out of Prozac. She hadn't broken down like this since she had found out what she had done to herself, and that had been years ago…

"Blair, baby…"

"No!" Now she was yelling. She sat before her computer, ignoring her mother's shadow as she opened Word and started typing.

"Listen to reason."

"You make no sense."

"Listen to me."

"I'd rather die."

"We _will_ die!"

"No we won't! I will fix this!"

"Fifty dollars won't fix anything, Blair!"

"I will fix it!" And she was outright yelling, in her face, breathing hard.

"If you won't go to him…. _I_ will," Eleanor deadpanned.

Blair's blood froze. _W-what?_

Her disgust was evident in her face, because her mother clearly saw it through her insanity.

"Not on my behalf!" Eleanor clarified. "On your behalf!"

"No!" Blair burst. "You do not speak to Chuck Bass, you do not go _near_ him – do you understand?"

"Maybe it's time that you remember _I _am the parent here!" Eleanor yelled back.

"You could've fooled me when you had grey goose bottles under our pillows!" She snapped back.

Her mother stared at her for a beat, and then stumbled out. Blair sat back down and looked at her screen, still bewildered by her mother's words.

_Marry Chuck Bass_.

She wasn't a fool, much less a desperate fool. She would never – she held herself above that. She stared at her screen: she'd never been much of a writer. She most certainly wasn't a Humphrey. But she was a good bullshitter. Always had been. She could weave the most fantastic tale by bringing out some secrets that had otherwise been left hidden.

---------

"Her mother's clothing line went down during the crash-"

"I knew this, the entire fashion industry did," Chuck snapped, pacing back and forth in front of Jacob as Jacob read him his findings. His lunch lay on the side, forgotten. Jacob nodded.

"…Her father died a month later, heart failure. She flew to France for the funeral and the reading of the will. She was left sole heir, but ninety percent of her father's estate had been invested in Kellar Industries-"

"Shit," Chuck cursed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple.

"The remainder of the fortune was used to pay the bills and taxes left on the estate."

Jacob continued, his words making Chuck sicker and sicker.

"They lost the house in Denver, the brownstone in London, and the properties in Hong Kong and Rio."

Chuck groaned. "Anything left?" He demanded.

Jacob scanned the sheet. "The New York place… It's in foreclosure."

Chuck stopped, staring out the window at the crumbling city.

"She never married?" He asked quietly. Jacob studied his profile and took a breath.

"She was… Engaged to a Ulysses Waterstone IV," he said quietly.

Chuck turned, surprised, and feeling acute heartburn starting. He was too damn young for heartburn.

"… He left her when their fortune went under," he continued.

Chuck stared at him, disbelieving. "He _left_ her?"

"Yes, sir." Jacob nodded. "A month after her father died. They were in the communications business… They also lost their fortune, and Ulysses killed himself a year later."

"Fuck…" Chuck sighed. "Who does she live with?"

Jacob scanned the papers in his hand. "Well… She resides in the New York apartment, for now, with her mother and someone named Dorota."

Chuck stared out at the city.

"She's held odd jobs here and there, and according to my contact, just yesterday she went to an interview with the Post… Which is how I presume she ended here." Jacob finished.

"How much for?" He asked.

"Fifty dollars. According to a reporter who overheard them, she was offered fifty dollars to get an exclusive with Chuck Bass."

He smiled slightly. He'd given her presents worth ten thousand times more than that.

How the mighty had fallen. His heart ached for her, the proud Blair Waldorf, doing the unimaginable. He wondered how she was now… Was she cold and arrogant still? Subdued and sweet? Had life completely broken her?

"Any children?" He asked quietly.

"No, sir… I don't think she can."

Chuck stopped and turned to him, his gaze taking over Jacob's body.

Jacob looked down. "She… uh… Apparently she had some self-induced medical problems, and this led to complications and eventually to infertility."

Chuck blinked at him, feeling they were talking about someone else.

"W-what?"

"Apparently, she suffered from bulimia nervosa for some years that led to severe malnutrition and eventual infertility," Jacob tried to place the predicament as diplomatically as he could. Especially with the look taking over the man's features.

Chuck was quiet, staring ahead.

"Sir?"

"That will be all, Jacob," Chuck said.

"But, sir –"

"That will be all."

Jacob shook and nodded, quickly gathering his papers.

"Leave them," Chuck commanded.

Jacob opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He quickly turned and closed the door, leaving Chuck alone.

Chuck counted 2 minutes before Jacob was gone, then he turned to look at the papers on the desk. He quickly turned away. He cracked all ten of his fingers as he mulled over this, over and over.

Kryptonite.

She was barren.

He cursed.

He'd always envisioned Blair Waldorf finally finding her Prince, having loads of fair-headed children with Cardboard-Man as she grew gracefully into old age while ruling the trophy wives of the Upper East Side. He'd imagined he would see her in the future, throw in a few crude comments on how she had lost it to him, and possibly suggest a rump in a broom closet as her frigid husband stood drinking Vodka Martinis and probably fucking his male assistant on Friday nights. He would be her dirty little secret then as he had been before.

Here she was, years later; penniless, husband-less, homeless, childless, and willing to interview _him_ for fifty fucking dollars.

He buried his hands in his hair. He should've never come to New York. He should've stayed away. She should've only entered his thoughts when he fucked petite brunettes with pink nipples. Not now. Not the way she had taken over his thoughts today.

She'd ruined him once before; she could not ruin him now.

Well… There really wasn't anything she could do to him. He had no best friend; she had no manner of ruining his reputation… She could do nothing to him now.

Not one thing.

He sighed and stood slowly to grab the papers. And there she was, a lovely picture of her, a few years older then when he had held her, graceful as ever with beautiful eyes and rosy cheeks. The picture was dated 2010… Before the crash.

He tapped the picture with his fingers and thought over and over as to what exactly he was considering… No. No, no.

No.

He shook his head.

"Jacob!" He cried, marching to the door and wrenching it open. "Get the car; I'm headed to the Post."

Jacob scurried from around the hall and quickly nodded.

----------

She stared at the article before her with a smile on her face. _Perfect_.

Just perfect.

The world would get a view of Chuck Bass that it had never seen. Once it was published, she was fairly certain that he would seek her out. To yell at her, most likely – but there really was nothing he could do to her; nothing really that he could take away.

And she didn't feel guilty about it. A part of her… A part of her resented what he had done. Run away. Just left. Left Nate, left his father, humiliated Lily, left her… He'd done a thousand things wrongs, and that was the exact problem with Chuck Bass.

He could be charming and sweet when _he_ wanted to. On his terms. But the moment things escalated out of his control, he became this beast that she just didn't want to deal with. She wondered if life had changed him the way life had changed her.

Fairytales had been over for her a long time ago… As they were slowly losing everything she had found out about her… condition, and she hadn't shed a tear. She had yet to shed a tear about it.

She had been too busy, too preoccupied with their life falling apart around them.

No time for it, no time to think about it.

Then the Ulysses mess… Yeah. Life had definitely changed her.

"Dorota!" She called out to the woman. Dorota carefully re-entered the room, eyeing her apprehensively.

"Miss Blair… You won't do what your mama says…" Dorota questioned her.

Blair stared at her. "Of course not, Dorota."

"Miss Eleanor not well, Miss Blair," She said slowly. Blair nodded, not being able to think about that right now. She had to turn in this article and collect her money.

"Find me my old printer; see if I can print this out."

Dorota looked at her computer and nodded. "I think I know where."

----------

Dorota had found, amongst her old school materials, a small folio to place her newly printed article in. She smiled triumphantly as she waltzed into the Post.

Her outfit was still as perfect as she could muster, the same one she had used to see Chuck this morning. Now it was slightly creased, but still as perfect as an outfit of hers would ever get now days.

She walked right into Mr. Stockton's office and found him typing in a dusty computer, his office filled with packages covered in hundreds of foreign stamps.

She cleared her throat and pasted a smile on her face.

He looked startled to see her, fumbled with his glasses.

"Y-yes?" He asked, "Can I help you?"

She stepped forward. "Mr. Stockton, it's me – Blair Waldorf. We agreed yesterday on the article of Chuck Bass?"

He tilted his head as he studied her, portfolio at hand, dressed as lovely as he had seen anyone in years.

"Yes, I know who you are. What are you doing here?" He inquired, still confused.

She frowned slightly. "I wrote the exclusive…" She held out the folio. "The Chuck Bass exclusive."

Stockton stopped what he was doing and studied her, her bright expression, the sheen of accomplishment, and then finally nodded, taking the folio from her.

"Have a seat," he offered, and she removed from his chair a stack of old files.

He opened the folio and she studied him as he read through her pages of work. She shifted nervously as he read it, glancing at her every once in a while.

"How… How do you know all this?" He asked, studying her.

She flushed. "You said yesterday that one's name didn't matter anymore… But there was a time when it did. We grew up together… Childhood friends… Until high school."

He clicked his tongue. "This article… This _view_… It's very intimate."

She took a sharp breath. "Is it what you were looking for?"

He went back to reading it, not saying a word. Finally he set it down and stared at her, removing his glasses.

"Well?" She inquired nervously.

He let out a laugh. "I don't think an article of this sort has been published in ages." He glanced at the paper on his desk. "Most especially not about Chuck Bass."

"So it's good?" She asked, her heart giving her hope.

"It's good," he smiled.

"So, we agreed," she smiled brightly. "Fifty dollars."

'Fifty?" He repeated, momentarily confused.

"Fifty dollars. You said fifty yesterday." Her mood deflated quickly.

She watched as he rubbed his temples and a look of pure guilt took over his features.

"Miss Waldorf… I never thought you'd actually be able to find this information on Chuck Bass… Yhe man's been a tight lid for years…" He attempted to explain.

Oh, no.

"… Nothing on his personal life has been uncovered…" He continued.

"You don't have them," she explained for him, and she truly felt like this time she wouldn't be able to hold back her tears because life was just too fucked up now. Too fucked up.

"I do apologize, if I had them I would gladly give them –"

"But you said –"

"I never thought you –"

She let out a small cry and quickly buried her face in her hands.

He stopped, staring at her hunched over figure. Her tiny figure.

"Miss Waldorf –"

"Shut up!" She snapped, standing up. "You want the article? Keep it. It's the _least_ I can do." She turned and stiffly walked away.

He stood quickly and ran after her.

"I can speak to my supervisor, see if we can possibly –"

"Stop talking to me!" She demanded, walking faster.

"What other information do you have on him –"

She turned at the entrance and glared at him. "I have nothing. Nothing," she spat. "And if you don't know the definition of nothing? Then look at me."

He stood rigid as she bounced down the stairs and out into the streets. He felt like total and utter shit. Stringing a girl along, in this day and age, where money was everything and people were willing to do anything for it. He should know.

He sighed and walked back to his office, shaking his head as he went along. But when he entered his office, he stopped because there was a man there. A man in a suit, his back turned to him as he studied his newspaper clippings on the walls and the books on his shelf.

"Excuse me! Who are you?" Stockton demanded.

The suit slowly turned, and Stockton gasped when he saw him.

"Oh I think you know who I am," Chuck Bass replied.

Stockton stared at the man, unblinking. Chuck Bass in his office… Oh, shit. He felt nervous shivers running down his spine, and his hands watered. The door behind him closed, and he jumped, turning to find an older man with hay-colored hair and glasses smiling at him slightly.

Stockton quickly looked at his desk and instantly noticed the portfolio was gone.

"The article!" He cried.

"My assistant, diligent as always, has made sure it's been destroyed," Chuck replied, slowly and casually sitting on his chair and leaning back, studying him.

"She must have you pretty scared," Stockton countered. "Her article was quite intriguing."

Chuck Bass didn't flinch, didn't move, and simply stared him down. The man must have a poker face to make a killing.

"I'm sure it was," he replied smoothly. "It was a very bad thing you did, Xavier Stockton. You have what? Four children? A sick wife?"

Stockton blanched.

"Is that correct, Jacob?" Chuck asked.

"And a dog." Jacob nodded, Chuck smirked.

"It'll be a shame to lose your job," Chuck looked at his desk disdainfully.

"Shame," Jacob replied, nodding.

"Are you blackmailing me?" Stockton spat.

Chuck Bass slowly stood and walked, hands in pockets to him. "Be careful with your words, Xavier. The world won't always be the way it is… But until then, the world is mine."

Stockton opened his mouth and quickly closed it.

"You will print no article on me, my staff, or Miss Waldorf," Chuck said calmly. "Am I making myself clear?"

The man's voice was low and dangerous, and Stockton slowly nodded.

"We did take your folio." He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled out a manila envelope, handing it over to Stockton. "But I'm replacing it with something that has a bit more value."

Stockton slowly took the envelope and opened it. It was full of fifty dollar bills. He gaped and looked back at Chuck Bass, whose face was rigid and impassive.

"Now you have plenty of 50s. Keep your promises to ladies; it's tacky when you don't." Chuck smirked slightly. "Do we have a deal?"

Stockton looked down at the money and then back at Chuck Bass. 'Hiring' Blair Waldorf had been the best career move he'd ever made.

He nodded and watched as Chuck Bass walked out of his office, taking his expensive suit and freaky assistant with him.

--------

"What would you like me to do about Miss Waldorf?" Jacob asked once they had slid back into their waiting limo.

Chuck stared out the window, his hands still damp at having heard Blair's voice after so many years. He had stood behind a door as she had yelled her way out of the building. He hadn't been able to see her, but he had heard her.

"_I have nothing. Nothing. And if you don't know the definition of nothing? Then look at me."_

Her words had burned him so brutally that he had to physically make himself stand still and not run after her, saving her from this mess. But not him. He was not going to go running after her ever again. He was done with that.

He was grown now, and no matter how sweet her voice sounded, that was not happening.

"How is the party coming?" He asked. Jacob stared at him.

"Invitations are being hand-delivered today," Jacob responded. "The staff at the Plaza is more than willing to have us use the old ballroom, and everything will be set for Friday."

Chuck nodded, pleased.

"Do nothing about Miss Waldorf. I will take care of it then," he responded, and Jacob slowly nodded.

"Yes, sir."

When they arrived at the building he swiftly made it inside when the guards saw him one of them came forward. They all looked nervous.

"Mr. Bass, sir," he greeted. "You had a visitor."

Chuck sighed. "I'm not in the mood."

"But sir…" The man continued. "We thought… After this morning…"

Chuck stopped and stared at the man. "Who?"

"A Mrs. Eleanor Waldorf."

Chuck's skin felt slightly cold and tingly. Eleanor. Well… His life seemed suddenly invaded by Waldorfs.

"When did she leave?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The guard looked at each other, uncomfortable. "We…We put her in one of the rooms, sir."

"She's still here?" He demanded, confused, excited, utterly taken by surprise.

"Y-yes, sir."

Chuck studied the man. He wasn't lying. They were all jumpy, especially since Alex had been fired.

Eleanor Waldorf to see him. He smiled slightly.

"Send her to my suite," He commanded. He turned to Jacob, who looked as interested as all the others. "Have lunch brought up. I'm having lunch with Eleanor Waldorf."

Jacob nodded, watching Chuck enter the elevator by himself. He didn't exactly know what was going on inside of the man's head, but regardless, he had a feeling that the Waldorfs were quickly entering Chuck Bass' life and not leaving at all.

--------

To be continued

A/N - This is most likely the longest fic I've done for GG, based on the outline I have it'll be at least over 20 chapters so I'm taking my time setting up the characters and the situations, but patience once CB meet their paths will keep crossing. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

_Never give out while there is hope; but hope not beyond reason, for that shows more desire than judgment._

_William Penn_

He wasn't particularly sure if he was apprehensive about meeting Eleanor Waldorf. It wasn't like the woman made him nervous or anything. Maybe it was the fact that he had deflowered her daughter, or perhaps the fact that he'd always seen her as the icon for what a UES accomplished woman should be. And here they were, years later, her with nothing and him with everything.

The woman would never have grandchildren and most likely never recuperate from the economic downfall that had been bestowed on her, so that aspect, above all the others, scared him most. He wasn't sure if he could handle a bedraggled Eleanor Waldorf. He had handled a lot of things in his life. He'd gotten out of Japan with hardly the shirt on his back when the bombing began between China and Japan. He's seen people in the streets screaming with missing limbs and blood everywhere.

He'd seen starving children across the globe, and he did try to help because everything was so very bad, but he realized quickly that he, Chuck Bass, couldn't save the world. It was not his job, not his destiny. He just needed to save himself. And in the end, that was what he had done.

He tried to keep all news from the old life away from his ears, but coming back and finding Blair in this state made him itch to find out what had happened to Nathaniel, and even his stepsister and the family he had left destitute so long ago.

He paced quietly until the door to his suite was opened and his heart was at his throat.

In stepped Jacob, who nodded at him.

"Mr. Bass, Mrs. Waldorf to see you." Jacob stepped to the side, revealing Eleanor. Chuck almost let out a sigh of relief, but he kept himself composed.

Eleanor was as enchanting as ever, with her hair pulled back in an elegant bun, make-up done, dressed in a tasteful black dress that hit her under the knees and classic black pumps. She had on elbow-high purple gloves that she slowly removed as she stepped into the room. Chuck instantly noticed she had no jewelry except for her old wedding ring.

She gave not a sign of their current destitution, which he could appreciate; Blair was so very like her that he often didn't see it. As a child, Blair had always imitated her mother's manner of dressing, her hair, her make-up, and even her manner of speaking.

"Charles," Eleanor greeted with a classic smile on her face.

Chuck quickly went forward and took her hand, kissing the back of it with a small smirk on his lips.

No perfume. Eleanor had always smelled like a perfect woody-flower. Her perfume had reminded Chuck of what mothers should smell like.

"Eleanor," Chuck smiled at her and nodded at Jacob. "Thank you, Jacob."

"It's been too long, Charles," Eleanor said and wisely waited until Jacob had closed the door behind them.

"Indeed," he replied smoothly, leading her into the room, one hand behind his back and the other on hers. "You caught me by surprise. I was about to have lunch – would you care to join me?"

Smooth, ever so smooth.

Eleanor glanced at the table set and quickly looked at him. "Oh, well, if you don't mind."

"Of course, there's always time for old friends, and you're the first I've seen since coming back home." He offered her a seat and nodded to one of the menservants to begin pouring the white wine.

"And New York missed you so, Charles. It just wasn't the same not having a Bass around," Eleanor smiled and nodded at the young manservant to pour her wine.

Chuck took a seat across from her and studied her. He wondered if Blair knew she was here. He wondered if they had had a huge fight or if Blair had asked her to come.

Chuck smiled at her. "Tell me about the family – and first, let me give my condolences regarding Harold."

A shadow quickly crossed her face, and Chuck instantly noticed before she recovered. He smiled internally because Blair was just like her – always hiding her emotions.

"Yes, poor Harold," Eleanor replied. "He's been gone some time now, at least he didn't see his beloved New York crumble around us like we have."

Chuck nodded, sipping his wine. "At least he left with good memories."

"Yes, he did." Eleanor smiled tightly at him.

"So how is…."

"Blair?" Eleanor asked, smiling coyly at him.

Chuck nodded, controlling those chills that his stomach always felt for Blair.

"Blair is quite well, she's an executive editor at the Post; after Yale, she decided to go for journalism. I didn't auspicate, of course – but I'm rather glad she did." She smiled at him. "She loves it and enjoys it – good thing, if she had gone into fashion like she always wanted as a child, she would be like me."

Chuck leaned back as Eleanor began to eat the smoked salmon. "Like you?"

"Bored at home, just helping in as many charities as I can. Given the situation."

That's when Chuck Bass realized it. He didn't believe it had taken him this long. He had thought it was just a game, and he loved playing games. Playing with Eleanor would've been a bigger step than playing with Blair. Eleanor was a master crafter; she had taught Blair by example, and Blair was incredible in her element.

But this Eleanor was not the old Eleanor. This Eleanor _believed_ her words, and this horrible feeling settled in his stomach. Not only was Blair dealing with all that she was dealing with, but her mother had completely and utterly lost it.

"She's not married, you know. No. I would've thought she would've married by now, but I suppose fate was – _is_ waiting for the right chance. The right man."

Chuck felt chills go up and down his back when she looked at him as she said _man._

Oh, hell no.

Shit.

He'd underestimated the deranged Eleanor. In her foggy-dreams, she was probably pressuring Blair to marry him. He knew Blair better; she would feel such a suggestion was beneath her dignity, regardless of how unfortunate her situation was.

"So tell me about you. Are you married? Have you been married? We've heard very little of your adventures." She smiled amicably.

Chuck controlled his inner tension and sipped his wine tightly.

"No, no marriage. I've traveled a great deal. Expanded the company and mostly lived to have a good time and see the world," he explained.

Her eyes lit up when he confessed there had been no marriage. His suspicions were confirmed.

"How is your salmon?" He asked, nodding at her half-eaten plate.

"Charles Bass, you _know_ lunch." She smiled her best society smile, and he smirked.

He knew plenty, alright.

"You must allow me to invite Blair and yourself to a party I am hosting this Friday," he said. "A welcome home soiree, if you will."

Eleanor stopped eating, and her attention was solely focused on him.

"A party?" She asked, a sweet innocence to her voice that Chuck had never heard. He blinked and nodded.

"Blair will most certainly be there. I do have plans, unfortunately," she said quickly, and Chuck's stomach clenched at the thought of Blair living with this madness.

"Another time then," he said smoothly.

She smiled and cheered him with her goblet, happily drinking the rest of it down.

----------

When Blair left the Post building, she knew she couldn't go back home. Not with all her hard work being for naught. Plus, she needed to cry without having to open the faucet and waste water. So she made it through to the park until she found the spot she and Serena had loved as children; the place where everything suddenly felt alright.

If she closed her eyes tightly enough, all this mess would be just a nightmare, and she would have her old life back. Shiny hair, teasing boys, shopping until bored, laughing and drinking sake as their spicy tuna rolls were made fresh for them, and a possibility of a future.

She took a seat on a cement bench, still standing after all these years. She looked out into the abandoned park that looked much more like a jungle now than the recreation she had known it as. There were abandoned horse carts randomly strewn about and the homeless slept everywhere and freely.

She should've left New York. She should've left New York… Maybe have joined Serena and Dan, or left with Nate and Vanessa when they went to Canada. Anything was better than being here by herself and her ailing mother. She had no one. Not one person. Just her and her 298 dollars.

She couldn't stay here. They couldn't afford it. She had to make a decision. And quickly. She took a shaky breath and decided with finality that she would have to leave her beloved New York. Take her, her mother, her Dorota, and their 298 dollars and try to make a life for themselves in the somewhere out there. Wherever people went when they left New York.

She still had her grandmother's earrings, her mother's wedding ring, her own ruby ring… And something she had kept, hoping never to have to sell it. A certain necklace that at one point in her life had saved her.

Chuck Bass' necklace. Her heart clenched; she had sold all the jewelry Ulysses had given her a long time ago, had gotten rid of all the miscellaneous jewels and gold… But the necklace reminded her of a sort of lost innocence. It was the last string left of the life where gifts were bestowed upon her simply because she was a socialite. Chuck Bass didn't just give jewelry to random girls, he bed them and left them.

Not her. She had known even then what he had wanted from her, but she had been… There had been so much time. They were only seventeen. Life was all theirs and more. Nothing could go wrong until everything that could go wrong actually went wrong, and it all went to hell.

Now here she was, age twenty four, cursed for life, driven out of her home and her life, and mourning fifty dollars. She shook herself and angrily wiped her tears, making a determined track back home. Her stomach begged her for food. She hadn't eaten all day, and she knew Dorota was making some sort of concoction. Tomorrow morning, she would take the rest of her valuables to Mr. Kin by Chinatown and sell them to him. She would be lucky if she got thirty bucks for them, but she would have to do whatever was necessary.

She made it home, her feet hurting and her soul completely deflated. As she entered their home, she was quickly attacked by Dorota.

"Ms. Eleanor?" She cried, and when she saw it was Blair, she let out a muffled sound.

"It's just me, Dorota," she said tiredly. "Can you make me a tea, please?"

"Miss. Blair." Dorota shifted nervously, and that's when Blair instantly knew something was wrong.

"Where's Mom?"

"Oh, Miss Blair, I just went shower. I come, and she's gone," Dorota cried, eyes wide and frightened.

Blair's heart stopped, and she quickly turned. "Did she say anything before she left?"

"No!" Dorota followed her. "But her ring is gone, Miss Blair."

Blair stopped and looked at her. "Her ring?"

"The wedding ring," Dorota nodded.

"Oh, God!" Blair sped to the stairs, since they hardly used the elevator to conserve electricity, when the elevator dinged open. Blair stopped, paused, and took a sharp breath.

Out of the elevator stepped her mother in all of her former glory. Blair yelped as she took her in.

"Mom!" She cried, relieved, and then even more worried than before.

"Ms. Eleanor!" Dorota cried, staring at her.

"Both of you calm down," Eleanor said amicably, removing her gloves slowly as Blair watched her with wide eyes. She handed the gloves to an even more confused Dorota.

"Where were you?" Blair demanded. "And why are you dressed like that?"

"Dressed like what?" Eleanor asked innocently. "Dorota, there have been no flowers here lately – I'm appalled that you would let this go on for so long."

"Mother, where were you? Where did you go?" Blair grabbed her arm and forced her mother to look her in the eye.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf!" Eleanor snapped, glaring at her. "Stop shouting!"

Blair blanched. "Put some conditioner on your ends. You have to get ready. Friday will be here in just a day."

Blair's brows furrowed as she stared at her mother. "Mom…"

"And since we've been invited to the party, I think it's only fitting that we go out and get you something lovely to wear. Sid you know that they closed Stefanie's boutique on 4th?" She continued walking into the nearly bare apartment as Blair and Dorota followed her, confused and concerned. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Mom!" Blair grabbed Eleanor's arm again. "Is that what you did – you went to the shops?"

Eleanor blinked at her. "Of course, and on my way up, I intercepted this."

She pulled a beautiful ivory envelope from her large clutch.

Blair stared at it. Gold letters, definitely new – nothing old.

"Where did you get this, Mom?" Blair demanded.

"I told you, I intercepted it – it was being delivered."

Blair saw that her name had been scribbled on the envelope.

_Miss Blair Cornelia Waldorf_

She gulped and slowly took it as Eleanor looked wisely at her. Slowly Blair opened the envelope to reveal a gold lining inside, she softly touched it. It had been years since she'd received something so very pretty and classy.

She reached in and pulled out the letter.

It was an invitation. She looked at her mother, who nodded in encouragement.

_Charles Bartholomew Bass requests the pleasure of your company at a formal gathering in honor of the Fall Festival._

_At the New York Plaza Hotel, Ballroom One_

_Friday, the twenty-first of October, Two-thousand fifteen at seven o'clock in the evening. _

_Formal attire required_

Her stomach felt like she'd swallowed lead. That's when she remembered she hadn't eaten. It was nearing 3pm; no food had her in shakes.

"Dorota…" She breathed. Dorota instantly saw her pale figure and led her to the kitchen.

"You've not eaten, Miss Blair," she pouted, and placed a slide of bread with some honey before her. Blair quickly ate it, her hand never letting go of the invitation.

Eleanor, for her part, sat happy and content before her, humming softly. Blair looked at her. Her mother had this far away look to her – she had no idea what was happening around her.

Blair finally set Chuck's invitation down as she finished her bread, already feeling better.

"Dorota, please sit. We need to talk," she said quietly. All three of them sat on their small kitchen table, staring at one another.

She took a deep shaky breath. "We're leaving… We're leaving New York."

Dorota's eyes went wide, and her mother looked plainly confused.

"Are we visiting London?" She asked. Blair simply stared at her and took her hand, smiling softly.

"Yes, Mom," Blair lied to her softly. Eleanor looked pleased.

"I do love London this time of year," she sighed.

Blair swallowed and looked at Dorota, whose eyes were filled with sadness for her.

"We leave soon… We'll leave when they cut off the light, which should be in a few days, I think," Blair finished quietly. "Until then, we pack what we have, and I'll see how much I can get for our remaining jewelry."

Dorota nodded. "Are we taking boat?"

Blair nodded softly. "I hate to intrude on Serena and Dan, but we'll most likely have nowhere else to go."

"And then?" Dorota inquired.

"We'll see what work we can get… Once we're there," she whispered, her eyes still wide and frightened.

"But what about the party?" Eleanor asked, pulling her hand out of Blair's grasp. Blair stared at her, unbelieving.

"I'm not going to this party, Mom," Blair declared.

"You most certainly are!" Eleanor demanded, standing up. "I told the delivery boy you were!"

Blair sighed. "Mom, I'm not going to a party thrown by Chuck Bass and all of his adoring female fans, I'm just not! I don't even have anything to wear!"

"We will find you something – make you something –" Eleanor babbled.

"I don't have time for it! I have to make provisions, I have to get us ready – We're leaving –"

"Serena will understand, she can wait some days before we join her in her country estate –"

"Mom!" And Blair broke the pressure making her choke; she yelled and tears came unbidden to her eyes. Her body began to shake. "Stop it! Stop it now!"

Eleanor stared at her, befuddled.

Blair looked from Dorota to her mother and quickly turned, nearly running up the stairs to their bed. She threw herself on it, and it wasn't until her face was buried in the pillows that she realized Chuck's invitation was firmly clutched in her hand. She folded the letter, and that's when she noticed there was writing on the back. She sat up, confused, and stared at it.

_I hope to see you Friday, B._

_CB_

She gasped and dropped the letter, staring at it on the quilt. Her heart was hammering so fast that she thought she would faint. She needed more than just bread in her stomach.

It was definitely his handwriting. She still remembered.

"Blair…" Her mother was at her door and she quickly took the letter, holding it to her. "You don't have to go, darling… If you don't want to."

Blair blinked at her mother. "We won't leave for a few days… If you can make me something to wear… I can go."

Eleanor smiled with finality, sitting on the bed with her and pulling her into an embrace.

"I do want to see you smiling at times, Blair – It's been so long…" Eleanor whispered into her hair. "Life can't always be this sad, my darling."

Blair listened to her mother; never believing her, but listening nonetheless.

The next day passed in a blur. As Dorota and Blair tried to pack all their belongings, they left Eleanor to her own devices. When Blair went to check on her, she was startled to find her mother digging up cloth from her old things. When Eleanor Waldorf designs had gone under, Jenny had helped her mother bring left over cloth to the apartment – They had never finished as her father died soon after, but the cloth had been enough for Eleanor to make clothing for the rich still left, and that's how they had survived these years. But the rich were becoming scarcer and scarcer.

With the threat of war in nearly every corner and the bombing of Japan and Australia, even the rich left didn't have time to think about clothing.

Blair had though her mother had used all of her fabric, but apparently tearing apart old dresses and making a new one was her mother's specialty. She left her, shaking her head as Eleanor took out her old sewing machine and went to work on a spectacular gown for the party. Or at least that's what she told Blair it was.

Blair didn't have time to worry about the party. While her mother was busy, she grabbed her grandmother's earrings, her mother's ring, and her own ruby ring, and headed to Chinatown to attempt to acquire more money.

After some arguing with the man, she got twenty dollars out of it. Twenty. She nearly sobbed as the last bit of her parent's marriage was replaced by a twenty dollar bill. She didn't ask herself why she didn't sell the necklace.

---------

Chuck stared at the jewelry before him, touching them softly. He sighed.

"She sold them this morning," Jacob explained.

Chuck touched the diamond earrings he'd seen Blair wear or twice and her small delicate ruby ring. "How much for?"

"Twenty for all four pieces," Jacob said, no longer sure how his employer would react to news. Usually he was impassive and indifferent… But New York had changed him, and in such few hours.

Chuck closed the cloth around the jewelry and handed it to Jacob. "Place it in a box. Keep it for later."

Jacob diligently nodded and walked away. Chuck swirled his scotch in his cup as he stared out into the city once more.

What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? He couldn't save the whole world – he had realized that long ago.

But there was something about Blair selling her most precious things that hurt him so much… He wondered how long ago she had sold his necklace… And for how much? Ten bucks? A meal? He sighed dejectedly.

He should've come sooner; he should've never left. He'd just learned that morning that Nathaniel and Vanessa had gotten married two years ago and lived in a small studio apartment in Toronto, where he had a job in the docks and Vanessa was a maid for the home of Julliard Van Stock, a business partner of his. He was still waiting for word on Serena, Lily, and Eric, but none had come yet.

He didn't know if he should consider himself a great fool for searching out his friend's fate, or a great romantic. Either way, it was bad for business. He'd made it this long by being completely closed off to the world and being apart from it. After he almost lost his life in Japan, he had moved to Scotland, the most rural of the countries nowadays, and had just lived his life amidst beautiful women and his money.

It had been good, but he got an itch. He got bored. He felt the need to see sky-scrapers once more, ride in limos, wear purple tuxes, go to bars… Things that could only be properly enjoyed in New York. And with his old friends. Now he had come back looking for who knows what and found this _mess_.

Trying to save Blair Waldorf? What the hell was he doing? The thought of being in the same room with her once more sent cold shivers up and down his spine.

He had no illusions – or ever had – of being a Prince Charming. He really didn't. He was a capitalist, a war profiteer. He had sold his ethanol fuel at the highest price to whatever country, regardless of their alliance. The American army had paid a small fortune for him to provide for their tanks, and he'd gladly done it, watching his account go up and up… And here he was trying to save Blair Waldorf. Trying to help Nate and seek out Serena. A fool.

----------

To be honest, Blair had forgotten about the party until Friday afternoon as she and Dorota packed the last of their non-perishable food into one of their travel bags. She figured if each of them could handle two bags, they would be able to make it.

That morning she had gotten them all tickets on the boat; it took supposedly a few weeks for the boat to reach New Orleans. It was a start. From there, she would find arrangements to go out West. The last letter she had received from Serena had been over four months ago, and they were living in a small town in Kansas. That was her destination.

She was so very tired, so exhausted that all she wanted was to bathe and sleep. When she made it upstairs around 4pm, she noticed her mother was in her sewing room, which worried her because there was no heat at all there and the temperature was dropping enough that Dorota had taken out what was left of their winter clothes.

"Mom?" She asked, entering the room. "You haven't eaten, Mom."

Eleanor was hunched over, stitching by hand, as Blair came near her.

"Mom?" She asked again quietly, and Eleanor finally turned, her slightly broken glasses perched at the end of her nose as she looked up at her.

"You haven't even showered!" She cried.

Blair looked taken aback, studying the blue dress in her mother's hand. Eleanor noticed and showed her the gown she had been working on. Blair gasped, looking at it. It was a short dress, strapless, with just the right amount of ruffles, and cinched perfectly at the waist.

She hadn't had anything so pretty to wear since the time of Ulysses.

"I didn't have an empire for nothing," Eleanor smiled knowingly. Blair reached out and took the dress from her mother and held it to her frame.

"I wasn't going to go…" She said softly.

"Tonight… You will truly be Cinderella…" Her mother said softly as they stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Under normal circumstances, she would've demanded that they try to sell the dress for money, because they could make _some_ money out of it. Somewhere… But the color looked perfect against her complexion, and the thought of going to a party once more warmed her heart, and her mother _had_ done it for her. Just for her.

She was leaving New York, that was the reality of it all, and she was going to see this party as a last one she would ever have. The last New York soiree before she embarked on her new life.

"Dorota," she heard her mother say. "Let us begin."

----------

When Blair stood before the mirror a few hours later, she sighed at her reflection. She could _almost_ see her old self. The young girl with too much time and money, who would doll up and impress each and every person she ran into.

Dorota has washed and combed her hair, and they had brought out the natural shine to it, despite the fact that they had neither shampoo nor conditioner. Eleanor had pulled an old make up case out of her closet, and they had found eye shadow, mascara, and some foundation to compliment her look.

The dress fit her like a glove; like her mother had measured her in her sleep. Thinking about how off Eleanor was these days, though, Blair wouldn't be surprised if she had done just that.

Dorota found some of her old leather pumps and attempted to polish them with vinegar as much as she could. They were still slightly scuffed, but they were better than all the rest she owned.

"The pearls would've been lovely," Dorota sighed sadly.

"Yes… Pearls would've matched it perfect… But…" Eleanor pulled out the one piece of jewelry Blair had been hiding amongst her things.

"No, Mom!" Blair cried, trying to prevent her from opening the black box. But it was too late. Eleanor had opened it and now stood staring at her old necklace. The Chuck Bass necklace.

She cursed. She should've sold it. Should've – should've, should've.

"… This is perfect…" Eleanor sighed, and Dorota quickly looked at Blair.

"Miss Blair…" Dorota had been informed that it had been sold, and she looked away, embarrassed.

"I'm not wearing it," Blair said resolutely, crossing her arms.

Her mother took the necklace out of the box and looked at it.

"Who gave you this?" She asked Blair.

"Mister Chuck –"

"No one!"

Eleanor looked at Dorota, and then at Blair. "You're wearing it."

"I am not!" Blair protested.

"You can't possibly show up without jewelry, and this is exquisite!" Eleanor walked to her.

"I'd rather go naked," she snapped.

"That can be arranged. Now, stop being such a child and wear it!" Eleanor chided her.

"He will notice!" Blair cried, holding her neck to prevent it from being decorated by the impending necklace.

"Men never notice these things," Eleanor said airily.

"You don't know Chuck. He'd notice if you changed perfumes," she hissed.

"Even more reason for you to wear it!" Eleanor countered.

"No! Mom, if this is part of your plan to marry me off to this man, you can forget it! I wont marry him," Blair reminded her.

"But you will go to his party, and you will wear the necklace." Eleanor pulled her hands down from her neck. Blair figured she might as well let her before she had a breakdown, and simply remove the necklace before she reached the party. Easy enough.

She waved goodbye to her mother and Dorota as she took the elevator downstairs. She didn't care anymore about saving electricity. They were going to lose it anyways, might as well just live it up until then.

As she made it downstairs, she wished she had brought a coat. It was getting slightly chilly, and she had on a short, strapless dress. Great. She'd probably get sick. Ugh.

And that's when she stopped and stared at the scene before her.

There was a long black limo and a driver waiting outside, his hand on the door.

She was taken aback, because the last time she had seen a limo waiting for her had been… Oh, yeah… She had passed out, and when she woke, she had found out what she had done to her body.

"Miss Waldorf," the driver greeted her and opened the door for her, waiting for her to get in.

She blinked and walked slowly to him.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"Mr. Bass sent a car." He nodded and waited for her to enter.

Mr. Bass sent a car. Mr. Bass… She fumed and got in angrily.

The moment she sat down, she couldn't control the haunting words of her mother from invading her thoughts.

_You were raised to be a princess… And he's the only prince left._

Oh, no. This was a bad, bad idea.

She shouldn't be surprised; Chuck always sent a car for her if he was inviting her to his party. It was his way of being gentlemanly, but he did it for all of them. She was sure now that it was a way for him to show off his money. She fumed the short blocks it took for them to get to the Plaza.

At least now she wouldn't get a cold. She was so distracted by the surreal fact that she was riding in a limo once more that she completely forgot about her necklace.

----------

Chuck Bass wasn't nervous. He wasn't. He was just anxious – a little because people were already here, and _she_ wasn't there.

He was a fool to think she would come. She probably didn't have anything to wear, and he knew Blair – she considered 200 items in her closet _nothing_ to wear. He couldn't imagine the state of her closet. He should've slipped a dress into her apartment without her noticing… No, she would have known it was from him.

Damn. Damn it all – why did she have to be so stubborn? Why did he care? He didn't care. He was a man now, and Blair and her chocolate hair didn't affect him.

Where the hell was she? He was pacing now, nearly growling at the people that greeted him. The room was filled with old UESers that still resided in New York, holding on to their pennies. Only a few in the room still had money at all. Every mother in the room was drooling over him, and he slinked uncomfortably away when any one of them came near. Jacob was a good fence; he screened them first.

Where the hell was Jacob?

"Jacob?" He growled behind him.

He felt the man instantly come up behind him.

He was about to open his mouth when something strange happened to the air.

"She's here, sir," Jacob whispered, and this sick and large stone fell from his throat and into his stomach. He slowly raised his head, and there she was.

He felt his heart stop beating. His bow-tie was on too tight. He'd told Jacob he had increased in neck size, but the man hadn't wanted to believe him.

He quickly gulped down his scotch as she looked innocently around the room, her chin high and her shoulders straight. She looked like the queen she was born to be, and Chuck Bass was once more suffering from acute 'indigestion'.

---------

To be continued

A/N - I know, I know - you want them to finally talk... next chapter


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"_Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."  
__James Baldwin_

She felt the room had stopped to look at her. She was probably right, of course – Blair Waldorf hadn't really gone to many social events of this magnitude since her fiancé had left her and then killed himself. It wasn't that she was a social pariah, and the fact that they didn't have money was certainly not uncommon anymore, but the fact that she had made a grand entrance made people stop and look.

She shivered in her skin but kept her chin high as she slowly descended the marble stairs. Her eyes were wide as people in their fine dresses (probably the best they had) laughed gaily as champagne kept flowing. She hadn't seen this kind of grandeur in years. Leave it to Chuck Bass to throw a party like this.

She carefully milled around the buffet table, and her eyes widened as she saw lobster, shrimp, caviar… Oh, caviar… Just one more taste…

She discretely grabbed a water cracker and spread the caviar on it. She sighed, smiling.

"Blair Waldorf!"

The cracker was in her mouth, and she didn't even have time to swallow it before she was interrupted, shaken from her five-seconds in heavenly delight.

She slowly turned and nearly grimaced. Anita Kline wearing none other than the last dress her mother had made her – the one she had been unable to pay for. Technically, the dress was hers.

"Mrs. Kline," Blair grimaced, nodding and swallowing the caviar. It was heavenly, it really was.

This woman should not be at a party. Her husband had just killed himself! Honestly, people had no sense of dignity left.

A waiter milled by with champagne, and Blair quickly grabbed a glass, relishing the feel of the coolness in her hand.

"Darling, you look beautiful!" Anita went on. "Your dress is spectacular."

"Yes. A Waldorf original… Like yours – only I paid for mine," she snapped and walked away, leaving the very insulted woman behind. She was leaving in a few days, no use in keeping up face with the bitch.

She watched the dance floor as people floated together, laughing gaily as if the world was not falling apart around them. Chuck's living statues were present, his very favorite, and the crowd consisted of the very people who despised him and his new money. She rolled her eyes, hoping she wouldn't run into him.

---------

When he no longer felt like an asthmatic idiot, he started following her with his eyes. She looked stunning. From her perfectly tailored dress to her soft brown curls that hit right above her shoulders, to her ruby lips and her lovely legs… He was mesmerized.

Jacob stared at him and followed Miss Waldorf with his eyes as well. His stomach tightened painfully… This was not good. This was so not good.

Chuck watched as Blair made a bee-line for the food and smirked when she instantly chose the beluga caviar. It was her favorite; she had good taste, that one. He slinked in the shadows, hiding behind pointless conversations that tasted of the fear of war.

She looked startled when a woman came to her; he got closer, intent on listening to their conversation and nearly burst out laughing when Blair spat: "Yes. A Waldorf original… Like yours – only I paid for mine."

He smirked, following her form as she studied the dancers and circled the party, intent on enjoying herself.

After a while, he felt like a stalker. Which is exactly what he was at the moment. It was amazing how money changed the title people held. He watched for a bit until she decided to head out to a balcony, and he slinked to follow her, ignoring Jacob's disapproving look.

----------

She took a moment to breathe as she leaned against a pillar. It had been so very long since she'd been a soiree that she had forgotten how exhausting they were. The smiles, the endless fake compliments that held double meanings behind anything and everything.

She relaxed a bit when a familiar song came through and smiled. _Moonriver_… Probably the last time she would hear it and be in New York. She became melancholic. It was all ending… Everything was just slipping from her fingers at an astronomical rate.

She sighed, turning her head, and there he was.

She felt all the air knocked out of her as he stood watching her – eyes still as dark as onyx.

"It's been some time, Waldorf," he drawled out, dressed impeccably, as always, in his black suit and green bow-tie.

"Chuck Bass," she smirked, determined to bring her indifference to life.

"I heard Nathaniel and yourself reconciled," he purred, scotch in hand and smirk in place.

"For a minute," she nodded and turned from him, then cursed because he was making her shiver, making her tremble.

"I'd ask about your mother, but she came to see me," he drawled.

She froze, feeling a chill up her spine. Her mother wouldn't. Couldn't. Shit, she would.

Her mind went back to the moment she had gotten out of the elevator, dressed in her black dress and gloves and carrying a _personal_ invitation. Her stomach dropped, and she looked away sharply.

"My mother's not well. I hope you didn't take anything she said seriously," she spat.

"Still on a high horse," he leered. "Quite an accomplishment for someone in your position." His voice was low and poignant.

She reeled back and stared at him. "Why are you here? Why are you talking to me?"

"It's my party, which you gladly came to," he growled, and now they were close, closer than they'd been to one another in years – in lifetimes.

"You left, and you didn't even look back to see how your friends were!"

"If I remember correctly, I didn't have any friends left," he replied, head tight and recoiling.

"Your own doing," she countered, her small hands balled next to her.

"No thanks to you," he hissed.

"How long are you going to blame me?" She asked, coming even closer.

"How long are you going to pretend you haven't used your lovely hands for manual labor?" He stared at her once-manicured hands.

Her eyes went wide, and she cursed. She should've worn her mother's gloves. Yes, they had a tear, but at least they would cover her hands. "I hate you. I hate you, your money, and everything you say."

"Hate is a powerful emotion." He walked away from her.

Her mother's words were ringing in her ears. 'You were raised to be a princess. He's the only prince left.' Her mother was wrong. She'd rather die than marry Chuck Bass and let him sweep her off to his Scottish estate were he was rumored to live. She – they – would make it on their own.

The moment he was no longer in the shadows, she let out a breath and closed her eyes. She was still shaking from the encounter. How was it that after all these years, after all the things she had to endure, he still got her so very angry, so very upset and ready to cause mayhem? She shouldn't have come. Coming was a mistake. She needed to leave. Needed to get things ready to make it out, needed to leave, to live – she needed… Dammit, she needed anything but Chuck Bass.

Then a sudden overwhelming need to scream at him came over her, and she turned to follow him.

--------

He fumed as he walked away. It was a mistake coming to New York, a mistake throwing this party, a mistake inviting her, a mistake investigating her, knowing too much – why the hell had she come to his place to begin with?

She had started it all, and now she wanted to show her claws? Well, fuck her and her little blue dress!

He nearly toppled over people in his way as he made his way the private quarters he had reserved for his own personal use. He slammed the door behind him and began to pace hardly noticing the sparsely furnished room around him. He grasped his drink and threw it against the wall.

A scream shook him as he turned and found Blair looking at him with wide eyes. The door had closed behind her and he hadn't even seen her there. Hadn't even heard her come in. She stood breathing hard and looking at the spot where the glass had shattered.

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

She turned and looked at him.

And they simply stared at one another – afraid of who said what and when they said it and with what intention they said it.

"T-thank you for inviting me," she finally said, taking a large gulp of air. It was like she had suddenly turned asthmatic.

He paused and stared at her.

"You're welcome," he replied. He looked at the glass on the floor. "You should've made your presence known. I wouldn't have done that."

"And interrupt your bitch attack?" She snapped.

"The fire below," he said quietly.

Her cheeks flushed, and she narrowed her eyes. "I think we got off on the wrong foot. We were friends once," she stated.

He chuckled softly. "If that's what you want to call us."

Her nostrils flared as she looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"We were never _just_ friends," he walked to her, hands in his pockets, and she backed away instantly.

"That's all you were to me," she stated plainly with a defensive stance. This didn't deter him. On the contrary, she saw the glimmer in his eyes as he stored the comment away for later ammunition, and she cursed her own stupidity. She had been out of the game for too long.

"Always too busy chasing around Nathaniel, I remember," he smirked, and she looked away. "Did they invite you to the wedding?"

She shivered.

"Must've been a slap in the face… Marrying the poor girl. The simple girl…" He circled her like a vulture.

It wasn't that he wanted to hurt her; it was that he was so very angry at himself for letting things get so very out of hand, for bringing these people back into his life, for making himself _care _once more. It was poison to his soulless soul.

Lashing out at her made it all the easier.

"… Leaving you all alone –"

"For your information, _I_ left him –"

"And to think of all the drama before I left –"

"If you would've stayed, things would've worked out –"

"Between us? I hardly think so – I'd rather die –"

"Than to touch me?"

"Perhaps that, perhaps than to be near you –"

"Then why did you invite me –"

"Perhaps I was sentimental –"

"You have no 'sentiments' left –"

"Why are we arguing about this?"

"Why are you here?" She finally cried.

He stopped and stared at her. She was a hairbreadth away from crying, and he had to look away. "I missed New York."

She looked at him, shaking her head. "You didn't get the memo… I see. There is no New York left."

"You're still here," he commented, and his eyes glided up and down her figure, indicating that she still dressed, talked, and acted the same way she always had.

Her shoulders visibly slumped, and he finally saw it there… The scared little girl with too much responsibility on her shoulders. No longer the proud woman of a moment ago.

"I'm leaving," she explained, and for a moment he thought he had fucked everything up with his words and his resentment… But she looked at him with those wide brown eyes that bore into him and brought out, all too clearly, his humanity.

"There's the door," he spat. What was wrong with him? He had a case of severe verbal diarrhea.

"I meant New York," she continued softly. He turned sharply to her and studied her crest-fallen expression, and his soul melted against his rib cage as she sunk into a leather chair, her small frame look tired and weary.

He said across from her without a word, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm tired… Chuck. I'm just tired," she whispered. His body remained so very still, afraid that he would break her out of this spell of confession she had fallen under.

"So… I put on this dress, and I came here not knowing why or because… But more as a goodbye…" A small tear dribbled down her rose cheek, and he swallowed. "… To dance one last time… To have caviar… Taste champagne…" She smiled and unconsciously touched her neck, and that was when he saw it.

His necklace. His mouth fell opened.

She had no home, no money, had sold her parent's wedding ring for twenty dollars, but she still had his necklace.

He looked away and to the floor. Unable to prevent his heart from swelling any more, he clenched his fists.

"… So I am sorry for screaming," she apologized, finishing her own trip down memory lane.

"So am I," he said quickly.

They were quiet, neither daring to look at one another.

"He really needed you, you know," she said softly, running the pads of her fingers over the worn leather of the chair.

Chuck's jaw clenched, and he looked at the movements her fingers were making.

"When his father left… When they were left without money… He needed his best friend," she was nearly whispering now, but he heard every word. Every single word.

"I didn't think he'd want me around," he answered. "Didn't think anyone wanted me around."

Her eyes were wide as she turned and studied him. "Things would've worked out eventually…"

He stood abruptly because it was getting to be too much for him now. Too much. She was so close, looking so absolutely beautiful… Saying these things, making him regret 101 things that he thought he had come to peace with…

"Chuck?" Her voice was stronger now and her features were set.

He studied her as she stood now before him, taking a sharp breath.

"Dance with me?" She looked almost shy. "I know you said once that you didn't want anything to do with me… But I really need to dance, if only one last time."

Now, Chuck Bass was not a sentimental man, he really wasn't, but he didn't know why her words made him want to hold her and reassure her that she would have loads and loads of dancing until she passed out with glee.

But Chuck Bass was going to do no such spectacle of reassurance. Instead, he nodded slowly and offered her his arm. She looked downright relieved when he acquiesced to her request and quickly took it.

He opened the door for her and led her through and through it all. She couldn't stop staring at him because he was just as handsome as she remembered him to be. All sharp angles and set jaw with lips just full enough to be enticing.

Jacob stopped what he was doing the moment he saw them walking out of the room and towards the dance floor. Diligent as ever, he scurried and found the DJ, instructing him what to play and nodding satisfied as the crowd stared at the couple that took over the dance floor.

Blair let out a small laugh when the song began to play.

"I guess this makes you the beauty," he commented, knowing full well this was not a typical music selection he had picked. He would rim Jacob later for it.

"And you the beast," she smiled, relaxing into his arms as he expertly twirled her around the floor. The crowd seemed to stop breathing as the couple elegantly enchanted them and made them reminisce about a time where this was normal.

They would've looked away, they should've looked away, but there was something magnetic about this moment. The last time they had danced together they, had broken up and resorted to doing horrible things to one another. And here they were… Years later, completely different situations surrounding them, and they could still dance flawlessly together.

The song ended, and they quickly dropped their hands from one another. He cleared his throat and led her off the dance floor. She spared him a glance as he tugged at his collar – she had to focus on that because his hand on her back was burning a hole into her. Into somewhere deep.

Once they were away from curious and envious eyes, she was able to look at him without flushing she took a breath.

"Thank you for the dance… For everything," she said softly. She paused. "I'm going to go… home…"

He turned sharply and stared at her. "It's not even twelve."

"I think I better go before the spell of niceties between us wears off, and we're just left with… Reality," she smiled softly, remembering fairytales of her childhood.

He gulped.

She smiled at him once more. "You take care of yourself, Chuck Bass."

He stood rooted on the spot, unable to breathe, unable to see… But the fact that she was no longer before him shook him so hard that he unconsciously grabbed a glass of floating champagne from a waiver and gulped it down in one swift motion.

Before he knew it Jacob was next to him.

"Sir… Is Miss Waldorf gone for the night?" He asked.

Chuck cleared his throat. "I'm retiring, Jacob – get the car."

"But Sir, you're guests –"

"I already saw who I wanted to see," Chuck snapped and turned, fully expecting the limo to be waiting for him before he made it to the doors.

----------

The moment the limo stopped before her apartment, she sat back and let the evening wash over her. She smiled softly… In the end, Chuck Bass had given her a fairytale moment. She felt more like a princess than she ever had all her life growing up full of decadence and splendor.

But this was it. It was now past midnight, and the fairytale had ended… And she was back to her life, her life in shreds where the carriage was no longer magical, but now a temporary loan and Prince Charming was fading quick and fast.

Yet something she was sure of, above all the things she knew, was that she would remember this night for the rest of her life. Just like she remembered her first time with him, because it was her own very first time. His kisses, his lips, the way he held her… The way he stared at her.

She smiled, looking down and touching her neck… The necklace… Her eyes went wide.

_Shit!_

She drew a sharp breath. Had he seen it? Of course he had seen it!

She was mortified! He must've thought she was throwing herself at him _again!_ After that moment in the bar all those years ago, she swore she would never speak to him again, and then she showed up with the one item that meant something and – oh, God!

She quickly scurried out of the limo, tripping on her heels and, before she knew it, she had lost a shoe! A fucking shoe! Who loses a shoe? And the limo had driven off, and she was left in the cold night with a shoe missing! It was her last Jimmy Choo!

"This is too much," she muttered to herself, shaking her head disbelievingly.

She limped up the stairs, absolutely pissed at life. She should've known better than to think she would have a chance to panic by herself, but no – there were her mother and Dorota, sipping hot cocoa and _waiting_ for her.

"Blair!" Her mother cried, happy to see her. Then she stopped. "Where's your shoe?"

"The limo stole it," she snapped.

"The limo?" Dorota asked, confused.

Blair sighed and fell on the seat. "He sent a limo, and I tripped getting out and lost a shoe," she growled.

"Did you see him? Did he see you?" Eleanor demanded, and Blair nodded, intent on ignoring her madness.

"Yes," she replied. "I saw him, he saw me. We saw each other," she said vaguely.

Dorota and her mother inched closer, and she let out a breath. Honestly! Was her life the new prime-time drama? Everyone waiting in anticipation as to what happened between Blair and Chuck?

"Did you have a good time, Miss Blair?" Dorota finally asked.

This she couldn't control. Because she really had _had_ a good time.

"Yes…" she said softly, remembering the room, the dresses, the dance… "I had a wonderful time."

Eleanor squealed happily and stunned Blair silent. She'd never heard, seen, or imagined her mother _squealing_.

"When will you see each other again?" She demanded.

"Never, Mother," Blair said plainly. "This was it. He'll go his way, I'll go mine… My life is heading down a completely different path than his."

Eleanor looked downright confused and disenchanted with life.

"But Miss Blair…"

Blair stood quickly. "Help me out of the dress, Dorota. We have a long day tomorrow… We start packing the little clothes we have."

-------

He had tried to sleep. He really had. But had been unable to. He was now an insomniac.

Apparently he was also impotent because, despite the blonde beauty snoring on his bed, he had been completely unable to perform.

Now even a lift. Nothing.

He stood slowly, staring at the clock. It was now 6:14 AM. He walked out of his room, closing the door behind him and going to the front door of his apartment where Jacob was waiting diligently.

"I take it it's a good morning, sir?" Jacob asked, nodding for the breakfast tray to be brought in.

Chuck walked to his bar and poured himself a scotch. A triple.

"Or not," Jacob commented lightly.

"Get rid of the body in my bed, will you?" He demanded quietly. Jacob nodded and swiftly walked to the room, dragging out the half asleep girl and taking her out of the apartment as Chuck studied the tray of fresh fruits that had been wheeled in.

Jacob was back, folios at hand as Chuck dismissed the man servant and poured the scotch into his coffee.

Jacob raised a brow.

"Sir, we have business to discuss." Jacob insisted.

Chuck waived his hand for him to continue as he ate a croissant with a honey spread.

Jacob raised a brow but continued resolutely. "The investors have negated your proposal…"

Chuck stopped mid-bite and stared at him.

"… With all due respect, sir – they still believe that your image is reckless and does not stand for a moral necessity they feel the general public needs." Jacob pushed his glasses up, trembling slightly. "… And therefore do not trust for you to be responsible enough for this project."

"We're selling fuel to the US army!" Chuck roared, all melancholic thoughts forgotten.

"And since the war is thought to be formally announced any day now, they feel that having a strong moral image in the face of adversity is exactly what the company needs. The image of a – and I quote, sir – 'a globe-trotting playboy with too much time and money on his hands,' is not the face they want to represent their money."

Jacob set down his papers and swallowed.

Chuck was staring ahead, too angry to think.

"And they want a formal answer from you on your rebuttal by… Noon, sir." Jacob looked away.

"By fucking noon…." Chuck sighed angrily. "My father build this company from the ground up, we don't need those antiquated buzzers to influence the decisions my company makes and much less my _image_."

Chuck began to pace.

"I'm not even a public figure!" He snapped.

"Ummm…" Jacob tried to interrupt.

"The press is lucky if they get a picture of me!"

"B-but sir –"

"I live in Scotland, for fuck's sake!"

"You've been chosen, sir –"

"This is _your_ job to make sure shit like this doesn't happen –"

"As the most eligible bachelor, sir."

Chuck paused and stared at Jacob. "What?"

"It's only in California, but you've been chosen as one of the top ten most eligible bachelors in the world… So you've become quite public… Sir." Jacob didn't know where to look or what to do.

"How did this happen? Why didn't we control this –"

"I can't keep up with small publications all over the world –"

"So you're saying you can't do your job?"

"Sir, I believe what you're angry at is the investors, not the magazine or myself – your humble assistant."

He had a point. Damn the skinny, balding man!

He cursed and stood once more staring out into the city. He'd been distracted lately. That couldn't happen again. The well being of entirely too many people depended on him keeping this company running and profitable.

"Sir… I've also tracked down your step-sister and her husband…" Jacob said quietly. "They're working in one of your Kansas fields, sir."

Chuck slowly turned and cursed once more. "Please make sure he's promoted to top management…"

Jacob noted quickly the details on his pad. "Your step brother is also with them."

"Make sure they're taken care of," Chuck replied. "And Lily?" Chuck swallowed.

"She… umm… D-died last month, sir," Jacob explained quietly.

Chuck said nothing, did nothing, thought nothing. He'd already lived in guilt over that one, and he had learned to stop thinking of his doings after his father's death. He'd been a child, and he'd been angry.

"Sir… There's also something I need to show you." Jacob went to the door and grabbed something wrapped in a velvet cloth. Chuck turned and stared at the item in his hands.

"What?" he demanded.

Jacob slowly unwrapped it to reveal a shoe.

What the –

Chuck's eyes softened with realization.

"She accidentally left it in the limo… They brought it over this morning." Jacob attempted not to smile as Chuck reached out and slowly took the small black shoe from the burgundy velvet cloth.

"Quite fitting, no, sir?" He asked quietly as Chuck stared at the size eight shoe, transfixed.

"Jacob…" Chuck whispered, feeling the weight of the small shoe in his hand. "Get the car… I'm going to see the Waldorfs."

--------

Blair didn't sleep that night. She was becoming an insomniac. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw herself strutting happily around with the damn necklace around her neck as Chuck looked on at her knowingly.

She groaned, upset still with herself and the entire 'enchanting' evening. She had already cleaned the bathroom and was getting the mop ready when her mother finally woke. The first thing that her mother had commented on was her hair. She hadn't done her hair, just thrown it up in a pony tail and kept going.

While Dorota prepared some oatmeal in the kitchen, she started to mop the floor – pointless, she knew. They would be leaving a few short days, and she had other things to do. Like selling the damn necklace and possibly the dress she had worn the night before. But it kept her busy and prevented her from thinking too much.

Once she finished with the main area, she changed into her decent pants and a sweater because it was becoming rather chilly.

"You didn't sleep, Miss Blair," Dorota noted from her end of the table.

"I have a lot of things in my mind," she snapped, and then sent her an apology with her eyes.

Eleanor softly hummed and drew designs on a notebook Blair had found last week on her way back from the fish market.

Dorota nodded, and that was when breakfast changed. The elevator dinged.

Dorota quickly looked at Blair, and Blair stiffened.

They hadn't had a formal visitor in over a year. Where they coming to formally evict them from the home? Her breath caught short as she pushed herself off the table and scurried to the main living area.

Dorota and her mother followed close behind, and that was when she was sure she was seeing things because no city man stepped out of the elevator intending to place the apartment on foreclosure.

No, not that. It was worse. Far worse.

Out walked none other than Chuck Bass in a crisp white suit, a hat, and a bright blue ascot.

---------

To be continued

A/N - I hope you all are happy now that they've talked, if any of you read the preview you'll see I changed a few things, which I did for the sake of the new storylines that have come into play


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I won nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_The greatest inspiration is often born of desperation."_

_Comer Cotrell_

Chuck stopped the moment he got off the elevator and instantly knew he wouldn't be welcomed. Not because he was hated but because they respected his good opinion and good opinion was not to be found here.

The Waldorf home he'd grown up knowing was not visible at all. The main entrance which was once glorious and smelled of hydrangeas and was warm and soft was now sporting one small couch. Blair's throne was gone, the flower table was gone, all of Eleanor's paintings were gone… the floors hadn't been polished and the place needed a paint job badly. There were even cobwebs in the corners.

He refused to believe that people lived here. He refused to believe Blair Waldorf did. He, of course, had seen much worse destitution but never in this place. This place was home along with Nathaniel's old brownstone… and now all that was left was a sad, cold empty space.

He knew Blair was staring at him and he really was trying to just focus on her and pretend all was normal but he simply could not.

This place was not a residence.

"Chuck," Blair stated, her nostrils flared and her face pink. He took off his hat slowly and stared at her. "What are you doing here?"

He stared at her because gone was the princess dress and now she was in her normal attire. He's seen Blair Waldorf in pants very few times in his life. She was a skirt-type of a girl. Always pretty and proper… and always perfectly matched, like she'd been last night.

Not the woman that stood before him.

No ringlets in her hair, no make up. She was a woman, a grown responsible woman. Set mouth and thick sweater.

"What are you doing here?" she cried, demanding his attention. Not that she could loose it he was just struck speechless. That was all.

The charade was over; Blair was really impoverished. This burned him because he could've done something about it long ago. God knows the things she had to do in order to remain afloat. The places she had to go to sell her family's fine things.

She looked absolutely hurt and embarrassed at his presence and he regretted coming unannounced. He pulled from behind him her shoe.

"You left this," he stated and her eyes zoomed in on her shoe. She gasped softly, covering her mouth.

It was Eleanor who broke the spell. "How charming!"

Blair's eyes widened as her mother went forward and grabbed the shoe from Chuck.

"Isn't it charming, Blair?" her mother asked her then smiled at Chuck. Eleanor was no longer as composed as he had seen her a few days ago. She was in her nightgown with a thick robe over her thinning frame.

Blair reacted, grabbing the shoe and quickly placed her arm around her mother.

"Yes, mother – Dorota, please take mom to the kitchen –"

Dorota didn't have to be told twice as she led a curious and protesting Eleanor who kept looking over her shoulder at her daughter and himself.

Blair turned sharply to him, still flustered.

"Thank you for the shoe." She said quickly, not meeting his eye as she clutched the heel in her hand. "You have a wonderful day."

He reeled back, still a bit shaken about her living conditions and stared at her.

"I have to talk to you –"

"I'm busy, we're leaving soon – that's why there's no furniture, we're almost done packing." She stated, still not looking at him.

Chuck walked closer and her eyes widened, nervous as to what he was thinking; he didn't blame her. She was as jumpy as a cat. He noted that the rail of the stairs was broken.

"I _need_ to talk to you," he stated plainly. "Don't make me beg."

She finally met his eyes and he saw the deep shame chip she had been carrying on her shoulder.

"I understand you're in the middle of a move … but it's business and I need to say it…" he finished quietly.

Her eyes questioned him when he mentioned the business proposal which was exactly what this was. This was not a social call; he didn't come here to _see_ her or anything. He needed something and perhaps he was lucky enough for her to admit that she needed something back.

"What business?" she asked, still not believing him.

He didn't blame her.

"Please…" he gestured to the only and severely used couch left.

She shifted nervously and finally sat with her shoe still in her hand. He cleared his throat and began to pace, playing with his hat.

Chuck Bass wasn't nervous.

"I have a problem," he began.

She made a derisive sound. "_You_ have a problem?"

Touché.

"That you can help me with," he continued, undeterred.

"I doubt that," she snapped.

"My primary investors are pulling out of a major deal because of things I consider inconsequential yet it means all for them." He trotted on.

She raised a brow.

"To put it simple, they don't like my image," he stated and she stared at him, as if he'd lost his mind.

"Your _image_?" she asked, not even sure if she should be amused or angry.

"Yes. Apparently they see me as a – and I quote - a globe-trotting playboy with too much time and money on his hands." He stated, still upset about it.

She chuckled. He stared at her.

"Apologies… I didn't know investors had a sense of humor." She smirked and he had to physically hold himself back from enjoying the moment with her because he was nervous as a fucking cat.

He took a shaky breath.

"Continue," she encouraged him.

He tugged at his collar. "So… before I loose millions of dollars," she rolled her eyes, "… and hundreds of people are left without a job," she stared at him, "I need to 'clean' up my image and fast."

"I still don't understand how I can help you – you've had this _image_ since sixth grade." She snapped.

"That's where you come in, of course." Fuck he was going to be sick.

"Me?" she asked, doubtfully.

"Y-yes," shit, he was a fucking stutterer now.

_Kryptonite_.

Her eyes suddenly went wide and she stood up, dropping the shoe. "What are you saying?"

He looked away. "It's a business proposal."

"But a proposal, nonetheless!" she seethed.

He turned and stared at her. "Am I on bended knee here? Do you see a ring?" he growled.

"That would've been better!" she cried, arms flailing.

"Why? We're not in love!" he cried and she looked genuinely hurt.

"You're _buying _a wife!"

"Men have been doing it for centuries!"

"I am not for sale!" she snapped.

"Like you're not getting anything out of it!" he cried.

"I don't _need_ you, Chuck!" she cried, at his face.

"Like fucking hell!" he spat.

"I can take care of myself _and_ my family and I will be ok!" she was in the verge of tears now and he knew he should stop but he couldn't stop because there was going to be not Chuck Bass the looser here.

"With your unlimited funds?" he ground out.

"I hate you." She hissed. "You are not a gentleman despite all your money and your silly hat and your supposed noble causes of preventing people from loosing jobs – like you give a damn –"

"I do give a fucking damn!"

"Your main reason for this debauchery is your money – your precious money!"

"You have no idea what I've been through – you have no fucking right to judge!" he cried, nearly wanting to strangle her.

"What _you've_ been through? I've buried a father!"

"Oh and mine is on vacation!" he yelled.

"An ex-fiancé, a social scandal while you gallivanted around the world –"

"Don't you talk to me about not knowing anything, Blair! I was in Japan when the bombs fell, watching kids holding on their own fucking limbs!"

She gasped and they both stared at one another hurt and finally looked away.

"This wont work." She said quietly. "We fight too much… people will see immediately through our façade."

She was right of course, but he wasn't leaving. No other person could do what he needed her to do. He knew, like he knew there would be sun tomorrow that she could be a sample of decorum and social formalities.

"This is a business deal." He stated quietly. "I'm no more in love with than you are with me."

Her heart clenched at his words and then covered her mouth with her hand. "There's nothing in it for me."

He stared at her until she finally met his eyes. "Fine. There's plenty of it for me." She admitted.

"I need an answer by noon." He deadpanned. "I'm meeting with the investors and I have a very small window of opportunity to change their minds."

"Why me?" she finally asked.

He put his hat back on and winked at her. "Really, Blair… what other woman can play this game?"

And he was out the elevator and leaving her shaking in her own sparsely furnished home.

---------

Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin when Chuck slid next to him in the limo. He looked pale and confused.

"Sir?" he asked, with great trepidation.

"I need scotch." Chuck stated and Jacob quickly pulled out the bottle he had kept in the limo. He poured him a drink and Chuck took it, gulping it back.

He took of his hat and threw it on the seat.

Jacob waited – he also noted that there was no shoe in his hand. Miss Waldorf must have it.

"I asked her to marry me." He stated.

Jacob dropped his precious planner.

"Uhmm… I… I-I'm so c-clumsy." Jacob stuttered, picking up his things with shaky hands. "I'm sorry what?"

"I asked her to be my wife." He stared ahead, almost as if he was informing his own self of this startling news.

"Did she agree?" Jacob asked, still bewildered.

"I gave her until noon." Chuck took a shaky breath.

"The investors are meeting us at noon –"

"I know." Chuck interrupted him.

Jacob hissed and looked ahead, grabbing some scotch himself and slugging it down.

They rode silently until after sufficient liquid courage Jacob opened his mouth.

"Sir… do you _want_ to say yes?" he asked quietly.

"Of course not, Jacob. I'm perfect happy and content with my life as it is." Chuck stated but never looked at the man.

If he was an honest man, a good man he would admit to himself that it did fill him with a certain sense of satisfaction to know that it was _he_, Chuck Bass, that was saving her in many ways. Here she was, alone and utterly helpless and everyone else had left her and he had charged in, like a white knight of her fantasies and was taking her away from his evil life.

Yes, if only he was an honest man.

--------

Blair sat staring at the spot that Chuck had occupied minutes ago and decided she just needed to breathe in and out because that would get her through these moments of completely and utter chaos.

This wasn't her first proposal. When Ulysses had proposed to her years ago she'd been a squealing mess, full of smiles and tears. He'd had a ring. He'd gotten down on his knee. It had been in a garden. It had been as perfect as their imperfect relationship.

She didn't even want to consider _this_, whatever _this_ was a proper proposal. It was like he said, a business agreement.

She had no money; no future, no guarantee that she could keep her mother and Dorota alive. No chance of keeping her own self alive.

He had the money, the power to come and save her.

In return? Pose as a wife. Smile and wave, mingle and be the perfectly perfect mirage that he needed to stay rich and get even richer.

And he'd said. They weren't in love with each other – there was no use pretending.

Yes, she had become _enchanted_ with him the previous evening. He'd been a semi-gentleman and she'd seen the night as magical, a formal goodbye to her home. Last night had been magic, last night had been special.

But today? The true Chuck Bass just visited her, made her a _business proposition_ – she'd never felt more like a prostitute her entire life.

She looked at her soon to be abandoned family home. The home five generations of Waldorfs had resided on… all lost on her watch. The family was slipping past her fingers… and she couldn't even pass on the family name because of her own actions… what was she waiting for?

How many Waldorf women had made the decision to marry a man they didn't love to save their name? She wasn't the first one, that was for sure.

What was the breaking point? When was dignity but an illusion created by a young girl and the endless rainy afternoons spent watching movies? Dreaming of love, dreaming of Princes and kingdoms?

They hardly had any food, she'd sold her parents wedding rings, she'd lost their home, she didn't even have her own bed…

She looked ahead, one last tear dribbling down her cheek.

"No more fairytales," she whispered.

She found Dorota and her mother in the kitchen as Eleanor quietly finished her oatmeal and Dorota paced anxiously back and forth.

She met her maid's eyes and she knew she had overheard.

"Miss Blair…"

"Help me get ready, Dorota…" Blair said softly. "… I need to be… perfect."

"No, Miss Blair – you can't." Dorota went to her and she was in her warm embrace being protected, if just for a moment, from the outside world. A world where things happened naturally not with these schemes and complications.

"There's not time to do my hair," she said, pulling back. "It needs to go up in a tasteful bun, and perhaps the black dress mom has kept… we may need to pair it with a belt but it should do."

Dorota had tears in her eyes as she nodded. "You will perfect Miss Blair."

Blair took a sharp breath. "I need to be… that's my job."

This only made Dorota more sentimental. Once she was gone Blair sat next to her mother who continued dolling around on her drawing pad.

"Mom…" Blair said softly.

Eleanor stopped drawing and Blair was taken back because for a moment she saw her mother. Her own mother.

"Always remember, Blair… always remember that I love you and all that I do is for you."

Blair blanched and Eleanor pushed the pad she had been using to her, Blair blinked and looked down at the drawing… it was a fashion sketch of a wedding down… and the model was her.

"Mom?" Blair asked, taking her hand. "Mom… what are you doing?"

Eleanor touched the paper and nodded. "This is you. I had a dream and this was you."

Blair closed her eyes and nodded.

"Ok, mom… ok."

Eleanor reached forward and kissed her forehead. She pulled back and stared at her. Her mother was gone once more. "Ivory… not white."

Blair nodded and gave her a tight smile.

-----------

Chuck paced back and forth as Jacob looked on. The clock on the mantle read 11:45.

Fifteen minutes.

"Sir… should I show the investors to the conference room?" Jacob finally dared ask.

Chuck stopped pacing and nodded tersely, watching the man leave him be in his lonely room. He was a mess. She had made him into a mess; a horrid mess.

It's not that he loved her – he was sure he didn't love her… but then again he'd never been in love before so he wouldn't know how the hell love was supposed to feel like. The only other person he was supposed to love was his father and that had felt this horrible resentment… he didn't feel that towards her.

Maybe he just wanted to protect her? Shield her? Make her whole again? Fix her? Hope that she would fix him?

Fuck.

Kryptonite.

He paced some more. His collar was unnaturally tight lately, he didn't know what was going on with that.

11:51

Shit. She was going to say no. She would just disappear to god-knows-where… shit…

He should've known better; he should at least made an attempt to be more gentlemanly about it; not just shove the fact that they weren't in love in her face. What the hell was wrong with him? He should know better – Blair lived, breathed, ate fairytales.

11:56

She wasn't coming.

Jacob opened the door, popping his head in.

"Sir… they're ready for you."

Chuck took a deep breath. Ok. Plan B.

Blair wasn't coming, this much was clear now. He now had to use his bullshitting ability to get out of this mess; which he thought he could do – he could deflate them _temporarily_ but not for much longer.

He was going to have to find an ulterior way of cleaning up his image. He made it down the hallway and entered the room where the old gizzards were waiting for him. His stomach felt like something had stabbed it.

--------

Jacob closed the door behind Chuck and sighed. Chuck was not happy – not happy at all. He felt bad for the young guy… he had seen something in his eyes that night and this morning that he'd never seen before.

He leaned back against the frame and closed his eyes, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples.

That's when the click-clack of heels made him alert. And there she was.

If he wasn't a controlled man he would done a loud 'yippee' hand-pumping gesture. But he was a controlled man.

She was out of breath and looked absolutely lovely. Her hair was done in an elegant twist and she was in a tasteful black dress with a wide red belt, her Cinderella shoes and a tint of lipstick.

"Is it too late?" she asked him, eyes wide.

"No," he managed to murmur. She looked anxious and jumpy.

"I have no ring… How am I to be engaged if I have no ring?" she asked.

He smiled slightly. "Wait here."

She nodded, watching the man scurry off. Her stomach was in a thousand knots. Had she just agreed to marry Chuck Bass? Oh god… she felt like barfing.

She was marrying for money. I mean, she cared for him, they'd had sex for christsakes! But… she just never dreamed it would be like this. No. No more dreams, she reminded herself.

The man came quickly to her and took her hand.

He placed in it something and she looked down, gasping when she saw her mother's wedding ring in her hand. She felt her stomach drop from under her as she stared at the tasteful Tiffany ring that she had always admired.

She had sold it for twenty dollars which had been used to purchase their boat tickets.

"How…." She looked at him.

"Not a question for me, Ma'am." He replied. He gestured to the door as Blair nodded, with trembling fingers slipping the ring into her finger, admiring it for a moment.

"Ma'am…" Jacob whispered to her.

She took a deep breath.

--------

Chuck wanted to be anywhere but here. The man before him droned on about image and the prospect of war and what people wanted and needed to see. Criticizing, hypocritical bastards, that's what Chuck wanted to call him.

But he couldn't. He needed to be mature about this. Too many people depended on him and his ability to do a correct business deal. And Blair wasn't here. He didn't know why this was distracting him the way it was but it was nonetheless. It was right down killing him.

She hadn't shown.

She'd taken her things and gone – never to be seen or heard from again.

He didn't know if he should be mourning. Wallowing… feeling like a dejected man?

This is _exactly_ why he had left last time; all these feelings and emotions that she brought out of him. Making him want things he shouldn't want. Making him be someone he shouldn't be. She was this presence that completely took over his life, thoughts, actions until he barely recognized himself. And here he was, years later, same fucking thing.

"What do you have to say about this Mr. Bass?" the man finally finished his tirade.

What _did_ he have to say? Shit, what had the man said? He panicked for a moment.

That's when the door opened and he became instantly annoyed because he had given Jacob strict instructions to not let anyone in.

He turned and stopped, his stomach obviously didn't take well to the croissant he had that morning because he felt sick.

There she was, in all of her Audrey Hepburn-like beauty and smiling, radiant.

"Gentleman, I do apologize for interrupting," she glided into the room and he felt he was standing outside, watching a movie. She turned to him and gave him an adoring look he had never received from her. "Sweetheart, I thought we were having lunch?"

The investors quickly looked at Chuck – Chuck for his part was gapping like a fish out of water.

"Apologies, I don't believe I've met any of you," she continued, walking around the room, showing off her legs. "I'm Blair Waldorf – Charles' fiancé?"

That's when he saw the men smile, delightedly.

For his part, Chuck's only thought was _well…. Shit._

-------

To be continued

A/N - I want to apologize for not having the time this week or replying to everyone's feedback; I'm in a middle of an audit and I hard;y had time to write. I want to thank each and everyone of you all for taking time out and leaving all your feedback; I appreciate it so very much! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and all its elements.

I also dont think I'll have a chapter up tomorrow because of this crazy audit I'm going through. Thank you once more for the feedback and I hope you enjoy this part :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_Only choose in marriage a woman whom you would choose as a friend if she were a man."  
__Joseph Joubert_

She'd come.

The men stood up when she entered, greeting her.

She'd come

That sentence was repeated over and over in his head until he thought he'd go dizzy.

"Chuck." Blair turned to him, still smiling with wide brown eyes that gave not a hint of the broken girl he'd seen that morning. "You didn't tell me Prissy was in town!"

Chuck looked at one of the investors, who was looking adoringly at Blair and her coquettish smile.

"We went to Yale, she and I," she continued. "I would love to meet her for tea this week."

"I'm sure she will be delighted," John Causkos, the stiffest of the investors, answered.

Chuck hid a smile. Then Blair did something he didn't expect – she scooted over to him and slid her arm around his waist, pulling him in. He felt his entire body stiffen, and she gently squeezed him for reassurance. He relaxed and responded by placing his own arm around her shoulders.

"I suppose I won't get my romantic lunch, will I?" She looked at him with pouty lips that made his throat go completely dry.

"Why don't you join us, Ms. Waldorf?" Kevin responded, staring at her legs longer than Chuck would've liked.

Kevin Gilbert was a young heir in his late 20s, and just the type that Chuck abhorred. Handsome, twelve-feet tall, blond, and with a Colgate smile that blinded people. He was entirely too good natured and was well known to being the perfect catch.

Blair looked innocent enough. "Oh, but you all will be talking business, I would be so bored."

The men laughed delightedly. Kevin's eyes were still on her legs.

"Honestly, all this business talk bores me, gentlemen," she laughed gaily.

"No business today – Charles, we didn't know you were engaged!" John beamed at him.

"Oh, it was very recent; we haven't even had a chance to announce it!" Blair smiled, placing her small hand on his chest, and he nearly choked when he realized she had on a ring. Fuck, her mother's ring.

That's it. Jacob was fired.

"Sit down, sit – tell us how you two met," another inquired.

Blair was in her element, crossing her legs and leaning forward with a smile. "It's all rather romantic; we've known each other since we were children! He pushed me once in the playground, you know."

The men laughed, completely captivated. Except for Kevin, who was looking at Blair in a way that Chuck had seen before… On his own face.

"We grew up together and briefly dated in high school, then after all these years we found each other once again." She was glowing, he noticed. Then she turned to him, and he knew what she wanted.

He'd been silent since she entered; if they were going to make this work he was going to have to do some work himself. So he did what he _had_ to do.

He took her hand and gently kissed the back of it, the corner of his eye watching Kevin closely. He didn't like the bastard already.

"But you know how it is, gentlemen, when you find the _one_." He smiled and looked at them. She was staring at him in awe, slightly taken aback by his tone of sincerity.

"Charles, this is cause for a celebration," John nodded. The men murmured in agreement.

As they continued their chat, neither one of them noticed that they hands remained firmly attached to one another's – like a life link.

------

He closed the door behind them right after lunch.

"How did I do?"

He turned to look at her, all her false bravado was gone and her eyes were wide and questioning. He honestly didn't know how to answer that. 'Perfect' could've been a response, but he didn't like all the _feelings_ that coursed through him at her little hands all over him. Holding his hand, petting his hair, tugging his collar, her hand on his knee, pressing her back to his chest… _Normal_ coupley-like stuff that he wasn't used to.

He was used to women pressing him against walls, wriggling under him, moaning in his ear, scratching his back… Not this soft and caring girl in his arms that he didn't know how to handle.

So he became a jerk.

"Great, great – especially with you not being able to take your hands off me," he leered.

The insecure face was instantly replaced with narrow eyes and flared nostrils.

"I'm your fiancée – that's what we do!" She spat and walked to his mini-bar, taking his favorite scotch and pouring herself some.

"And you've had plenty of experience with that," he snapped, still smirking and taking a moment to look over her curves.

She glared at him and gulped back her drink, grimacing.

"Turned to hard liquor, have you?" He asked, sauntering over to her.

"I haven't had a drink in two years," she whispered, wiping her lip as he poured himself some because he desperately needed it.

"My condolences."

She stared at him.

"Ok. Ground rules," she began, and he smirked because he loved seeing her like this, in charge and bitchy.

She set down her glass and stared him down. "Separate beds, separate bedrooms, separate bathrooms, separate everything."

He arched his brow and leaned back on the wall.

"My family gets taken care of, and you don't touch me unless we're in public," she spat.

He nodded, still amused.

"I want to save the penthouse, it's been in my family for four generations. I want a cat, I don't want Dorota to work, and I don't want anyone to know about my mother's condition."

He swallowed his liquor and stared at her.

"I also want to be involved in the business," she finished.

He sputtered. "Now hold on –"

"I sure am. If you think you've gotten yourself a little housewife to sit in on tea parties, you're in for a surprise," she snapped. "I want to oversee production, look in on investors, and do public appearances. I also want a list of charities in which we participate in –"

_We?_

"Thus I can better see where exactly our money is going." She took a breath and looked away, looking slightly vulnerable once more. "And… I don't want to have children."

He gulped and stared at her. She was as much a firecracker as she'd always been, always in charge, always bossy and always stunning. She was also a sad story.

"_Can you please shut up?" Chuck whined as eleven year old Blair continued._

"_And we'll have a boy first, we'll call him Nathaniel – like his father. Boys should always be named after their fathers." she said reverently. "And then it'll be the girl, and we'll name her something regal like 'Natalia' or 'Anastasia'."_

"_So you'll be bearing babies for the rest of your life?" He sneered._

"_So what?" She snapped. "Children are the product of their parents' love."_

"_What if you love someone but don't want to have kids?" He asked._

"_That's crap, Chuck Bass! Everyone wants to have children!"_

He stared at her, taking in her averted eyes. He should've shut his fucking mouth, but part of him wanted for her to know that he knew.

"That's not what you used to say when we were eleven," he said quietly.

Her eyes widened softly, but she still did not meet his eyes.

"Chuck Bass, I'm not having children – most especially yours. And if that's going to be a problem, then you might as well call the whole thing off. Because I'm not." She took a breath, finally meeting his eyes. "I'm just not."

Now… Chuck Bass was not a man whose heartbeat betrayed inner emotions, filled with turmoil, filled with something else warm and… _gooey_. But apparently, his heart hadn't gotten the memo because it was a strange sensation that went through him as she refused to confide in him what she had done to herself.

Blair, for her part, was shaking. No one knew. No one. Her mother and Dorota and that had been it. She'd kept it her little secret – mostly because she didn't even like thinking about it. She preferred telling herself that she never wanted kids. Her hips would never be the same, her boobs would sag… It would be a disaster. Yes, life without children was better.

She stared at him because, for all she knew, Chuck Bass already had a few little spawns crawling around.

"Works for me," he finally nodded. "I never wanted children, either."

He came closer, knowing full-well that it would make her uncomfortable.

"But… a marriage is not a marriage until it's … _consummated_," he said, low and deep, hitting an inner chord in her ear drum and making her shake uncontrollably.

"I'm not sleeping with you," she replied, pushing him off.

He chuckled. "It's not like we haven't done it before and enjoyed it. I can also guarantee I've gotten even better. If that was even possible."

She grimaced. "Do you always have to be so crude?"

"Do you always have to be so very proper?" He countered.

She decided on rolling her eyes because neither of them was going to win this argument.

"When is the wedding?" She finally asked.

"Soon," he walked away, twirling his scotch. "Any day now, the war will be announced, and I don't plan to be in New York when that happens."

Her face paled as she looked at him. "Why?"

He stopped and stared at her. "Why do you think? What city will hit the heart of what is left of the United States?"

She gaped at him, clutching her own chest. "They wouldn't." But his serious face told her everything. "I have to get Mom out of here," she said, eyes wide.

He took a breath. "My plane got clearance to leave in six days." Her head snapped up and stared at him. "We have to do it before then – I don't think we'll be able to get a window clearance once the war begins… It'll be too dangerous to cross the ocean then," he continued.

She took a seat because it was all coming so very fast and so very clear that it shook her thoroughly. He watched as she trembled slightly on his couch.

"To Scotland?" She asked quietly.

He nodded, taking a seat across from her. "Yes… New York won't be safe until the war is done."

"Serena… And Nate…" she whispered. "Chuck, we have to help them."

He looked away. "I already did… I mean, I tried. Serena and Eric are safe in Kansas, the war won't go inland, but… I can't get any more information on Nate and Vanessa."

She was staring at him curiously. Here he was, having abandoned them while he lived the life of a sheik, and _now_ he wanted to help? A little bit late, if you asked her, but at least he was trying. And he was the only one of them that could help the others.

"Did you ever speak with Nate?" She asked quietly.

"No…" he replied sadly. "I never made the effort."

She looked at him – his regret was evident in his voice and his body language, slumped down low and broody. They had been brothers, Nate and him. Nate always the golden one with an easy smile and Chuck the dark, mysterious one with the evil smirk, but they were each other's yin and yang. And it had all been destroyed because of her.

"I'm sorry… about everything… about Nate… I'm sorry we were so young and stupid that we didn't fix it, and now it's too late," she said, and he stared at her.

"We were young and stupid," he agreed, giving her a tight smile.

"Where do we start?" She finally asked.

Chuck stared at her. She looked resolute and brave, like she was bracing herself for a horrible hit. He admired her then because he knew if Blair Waldorf was something, it was brave. She had no problem marching up to people and being as mean and devious as she needed to be. While others shied away from confrontation, she was more than willing to meet it head-first.

They were alike in that way; in moments of desperation they thought about themselves and their own, and they were willing to fight tooth and nail for it.

She was a fiery little thing. _If_ he had ever decided to marry for love, he knew without doubt that Blair would've been the one he would've chosen… If things were different.

"Today… with the right help, we can put together a semi-decent Upper East Side wedding," he said. "I think."

She stared at him – that's right. No running down to the court. She'd get a dress, flowers, photos… Everything that a girl dreams of.

They had to put on a show, like they'd just done. A show at being in love.

The truth was that she'd forgotten what it felt like to be in love. Was it passion ignited by need and want? Unable to breathe without that person? Or was it something softer? Something perhaps… that she'd never felt before? Something like standing next to that person and simply looking over and smiling and being lost because you're seeing a mirror of yourself born into a whole new body and somehow you've managed to find that other body? Who was lucky enough? Really? To be able to think the same, act the same?

Is that what a soul mate was? Who knew? Who even knew about them? Had anyone really seen theirs? Was there time for soul mates in time of war? Was there really time for love?

"Jacob!" She watched as Chuck called for the man who had giving her the ring… The ring!

"Chuck!" She cried, and he turned sharply to look at her as she slowly stood. "Explain." She pointed to her finger.

He stared at her hand, and she watched as his jaw twitched. "You're welcome," se said simply and turned, continuing his instructions.

She watched him. No apologies. None. Just expecting gratitude. She glared at the back of his head and decided she understood perfectly clear how old married couples felt.

---------

"Oh, Miss Blair…" Dorota whispered, all teary, as Blair tried on the dress Chuck had gotten for her.

Blair stared at herself in the mirror. Less than thirty hours ago, she had accepted Chuck's _business_ proposal. Here she was trying on a vintage Badgley Mischka and wearing pearls.

The move out of her family home had been the hardest because Eleanor didn't want to leave. And they had cut the light that afternoon. Jacob promised her he would take care of making sure the home would be in her name and would be kept safe until New York itself was safe once more.

Now her mother, Dorota, and she were in a private suite opened specially for them. They had a maid that Dorota hated and glared at her every once in a while. Blair insisted that Dorota was no longer here for that, but the woman couldn't help herself and insisted on taking care of Blair, or so she had told the young girl who was scared as hell of the Hungarian.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Blair's eyes widened.

"Miss Waldorf, it's Jacob."

"Oh!" Blair quickly made to open it, but was met by a stern glare from Dorota, who went to the door instead.

She opened the door and glared at the man.

"Miss Blair busy," she informed him.

He blinked at her, pushing his glasses up.

"I do apologize, Dorota, however – Mr. Bass has asked me to bring these in," he ground out, not happy about having to go through Blair's bulldog.

"Miss Blair ok," Dorota huffed at him.

Jacob moved to reveal two men with trunks.

Blair walked to them. "What are these?"

Jacob looked confused. "Your clothes, ma'am."

Blair looked at Dorota, who looked back at her. "My… clothes?"

Jacob nodded and nearly pushed Dorota out of the way so the men could wheel in her 'clothes'. And they set the trunks in the middle of the room, nodded, and left. Blair walked slowly to them and asked Dorota to open them.

She stared in and surely her old self would've rejoiced at the prospect of a man buying her all these clothes… There were shoes, dresses, purses, headbands, jewelry, underwear… A whole wardrobe.

"Where is he?" She asked Jacob.

Jacob stuttered. "I-in a meeting."

She arched a brow.

"Or in his room," he answered, looking away.

She lifted her skirt and marched out, pointing for Jacob to lead the way.

"But…" He paused and stared at her. "You're in the wedding dress, Ma'am."

Bair rolled her eyes. "Trust me, bad luck? I can handle."

She followed Jacob down a hallway and up one floor to the elevator, where Jacob pointed to Chuck's suite. She went and knocked.

"Busy," she heard the muffled sound from the other room.

"It's your wife to be!" She called out.

She heard shuffling, and that's when she realized… He wasn't alone. Shit, she shouldn't have come, she should've sent a thank you with Jacob. She was so ridiculous – she had wanted to thank him in person, but it seemed like a horrible idea now, standing in her wedding dress, while he shagged some ditz.

She took a deep breath and quickly made it back, past Jacob, who looked like he would rather be picking corn, and into the elevator. Her large skirt was swooshing behind her.

The elevator faced his door, and she pressed the 'close door' button fifteen times. He opened the door as her own doors slid closed, but just for a moment, their eyes met. She could've sworn she heard him call out her name, but it was muffled by the door closing. As they slid closed, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

_Of course_ he would have women.

They were only having sex on their wedding night to 'consummate' the marriage. And that was it.

She didn't expect him to stay celibate, did she? Out of all the men in the world, not Chuck Bass. Most especially not Chuck Bass.

Chuck stared at the closed doors as he buttoned up his shirt.

"What did she want?" He demanded of Jacob.

Jacob, who had decided a long time ago (well, maybe a few hours ago) that this was the most bizarre love story he had ever had the displeasure of encountering, decided to just go with the truth.

"Sir, I believe she wanted to thank you for the items you sent to her suite." He cleared his throat.

"_Thank me_?" Chuck asked, confused.

"Y-yes, sir."

Chuck stared at the elevator, leaning his back against the frame.

"Was she in the wedding dress?" He asked quietly.

"Yes," Jacob answered, staring at him.

Chuck clicked his tongue and re-entered his suite, slamming the door behind him.

Jacob stared at the closed door and sighed. His job used to be simple. Women messed it all up.

---------

She would just take the clothes and shut up. Just shut up about it. Of course he would get her clothes. She needed to be his perfect wife, he obviously didn't expect her to go around in the drags she had left in her own closet.

She fumed as Dorota began packing her bags and her mother helped her out of her dress.

"I'm sorry we couldn't use your design, Mom," she told her as Eleanor concentrated on hanging the dress.

"You will," she said lightly, nodding at the dress.

Blair smiled at her mom. "You think I'll marry again?"

"No. But you'll wear it." Eleanor was satisfied with her hanging abilities.

Blair stared at her back and shook her head. Her mother was becoming stranger and stranger.

"I wonder where he got all this," she wondered out loud as Dorota stared at a pair of Prada shoes.

Dorota made a derisive sound and shook her head.

"Everything is vintage…" She whispered.

"When you rich, you get things," Dorota stated wisely.

"I suppose…" Blair murmured.

--------

The next couple of days went like a blur for Blair; there was people coming at her from every direction. In times past, she would've basked in it, but now it felt strange not to worry about the things that had been haunting her every day for the past few years.

No worries about money, always plenty of food, always warm, clothes for her mom and Dorota, her own bed, Dorota anxious because she felt she had nothing to do, Jacob always providing everything she needed and even things she didn't think she needed at all…

By the third day, she was exhausted. Dorota was busy helping Eleanor shower and dress, which left Blair to lie on the couch about to pass out. The floor was covered in luggage and wedding things.

That's when Chuck went to see her for the first time after their elevator encounter.

"You've been busy," he remarked. He looked to be heading out with a coat and gloves in his hands. His signature scarf still alive and well around his neck.

She opened an eye and stared at him. "I'm exhausted."

He chuckled and swatted her feet for her to move so he could sit down.

"Weddings usually stress the bride," he murmured, studying a box by his feet that contained her veil.

She closed her eyes and sighed once more. "And never the groom."

She heard him chuckle, and she frowned. Why did he always have to find things humorous?

"Listen, we need to talk…"

"I don't want to – last time we agreed to talk, I got into this mess," she snapped, and he smirked.

"It's about Scotland – site of your future home?" He teased, and she glared at him.

The thought of living in some far away Scottish castle did have its appeals, she wasn't going to lie. She hadn't traveled in years, and she longed for the days when she could jet off at a moment's notice. She stared at Chuck, who was staring at her, almost as if he was trying to figure it all out.

In two days she would be his wife. He would be her husband.

She felt sick.

Unusually girls had time to anticipate this, look forward to it – fall in love. But not her. Not Blair Waldorf.

Oh, God! She would be Blair Bass soon!

"You look sick," he commented.

"My name," she breathed. "It's going to be Blair Waldorf-Bass. I want to keep the Waldorf."

"As you wish," he nodded. "You'll find me to be a very pleasing husband."

"How very Jane Austen of you," she replied and closed her eyes again.

"Blair… about Scotland…"

She opened her eyes once more because he sounded serious.

"What? What about it?" She asked.

"It's not… It's not what you're thinking it'll be," he said carefully.

She studied his profile as he looked away, his hands playing with his gloves.

"What's wrong with it?" She was nervous now. She was dragging her family with her in this.

"Nothing is!" He answered defensively. "It's just… It's been home. So it's not what you'll expect."

She arched a brow. "Explain."

He seemed to shake himself out of the confessionary mood he had fallen under and stood up abruptly.

"Never mind," he said and made for the door.

"Chuck!" She cried, standing up and following him. "What is it?"

He slid his hands back into the gloves. "No, never mind – I'll see you at the wedding." He stopped and looked her once over. "You looked great in the dress, by the way."

She opened her mouth to respond, but he was gone before she could formulate a thank you. So this troubled her, of course. She was now pacing back and forth despite her protesting limbs until she was able to get Jacob.

"What's wrong with Scotland?" She demanded the moment he entered the suite.

He looked downright confused.

"Chuck said it was not what I expected," she explained, wriggling her hands. "What's wrong with it?"

He looked down and took off his glasses, cleaning them.

"N-nothing is wrong with it, Ma'am. It's his home," Jacob informed her.

What did that mean? What was that supposed to mean? She didn't know – at this point she didn't care.

That was when the first bomb fell.

It shook the entire building, and it made her fall on the floor. She rolled over, narrowly missing a glass lamp that would've fallen on top of her.

------------

To be continued

AN - So there's an update! If I have one tomorrow it'll be late cause I haven't even started on the new chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_One man loved the pilgrim soul in you, and loved the sorrows of your changing face."  
__W.B. Yeats_

Blair felt the air knocked out of her when the second bomb fell. She knew she was screaming by then, not because she was in any pain, but because her fear consumed her and she felt she would die right there on the carpet.

She waited a few seconds, but no other bombs fell. She scampered to her feet to find Jacob crouched in a corner, looking as scared and terrified as she was.

"Miss. Waldorf… Are you ok?" He gasped out.

She simply nodded; she didn't trust herself to speak. She felt shaky and unstable, stumbling against things as she tried to hold on. She felt her inner ear ringing uncontrollably as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Then her worry came.

"Mom! Dorota!" She cried, closing her eyes and blinking because she was seeing stars.

"Miss Blair!"

"Dorota!" She went towards the voice and fumbled until strong arms went around her and held her up.

"Miss Waldorf!" A male voice was at her ear and she was sure she was melting at the feeling of being held up and pressed against a strong male chest.

"Dorota! Mom!" She was crying out, trying to get away from the unfamiliar arms as she heard Dorota cry out to her again.

"Miss Waldorf, calm down – I've got you," the man said.

She blinked and looked up finally, seeing a vaguely familiar face that she couldn't place and didn't care enough to at that moment. She just needed to save her mother and Dorota.

"I'm Kevin, Kevin Gilbert – your fiancé's associate," he explained, still holding her up.

What? What was he talking about? Why was he talking – where was her mother? Fiancé? Chuck!

"Chuck! He was leaving – he's out in the streets!" She cried to him urgently.

"Where's your mother?" He demanded. She finally pushed him off her, stumbling a bit as her sight was still hazy.

She walked towards the back of the suite where her mother's room and bathroom were. "Mom! Dorota!"

"Miss Blair!" And Dorota was in front of her, holding her as she shook.

"Dorota!" She held her fast.

"An attack, Miss Blair!" Dorota's eyes were wide with fear.

"Where's my mother?" She demanded.

"She's stuck. I can't, Miss Blair!" Dorota looked close to tears.

Blair pushed past her and tried to get into the bathroom. The door had fallen off the hinges and was stuck, preventing the entrance or exit of anyone into the bathroom.

"Mom!" She ran to the door, fully aware that Mr. Savior was right behind her.

"Blair!" Eleanor's voice was wild with fear. And she started crying. "Blair I can't get out! Oh, take me out! Call Harold!"

Blair pounded at the heavy wood, but it was wedged in good.

"Let me," Kevin offered, gently pushing her away as she stared at him, wide-eyed. He pushed his shoulder against the door, but it was wedged solid tight.

"Blair! Blair, I'm scared, I can't get out!" Eleanor was pleading on the other side.

"Mom, it's ok – we're getting you out – stay away from the door, Mom – stay away!"

"No, Blair – get me out!" She wasn't listening to her, and Blair began to panic.

"No, stop!" She told Kevin. "Stop it! If you push it in, it'll fall on her!"

Kevin stopped pushing just as Jacob stumbled in, holding a napkin to his head. He was bleeding slightly – a wound which Dorota took to be serious because she let out a cry.

"Is Mrs. Waldorf alright?" He asked.

"I don't know!" Blair cried, panicked still. "We need an axe or something!"

And that's when a black coat came running through the door. It was Chuck, and Blair let out a cry of relief she didn't know she was holding in.

"Chuck!" She cried and, before either could protest or think if it was proper or if they wanted it, he had lifted her into his arms. She held on to him tightly in relief as she buried her face into his neck.

"Are you ok? Are you alright?" He asked quickly, pulling her back and looking over her. He was touching her face and pushing her hair back to study her. His eyes were dark and concerned, and all she could do was nod and let out a sigh of relief as he stood before her, her small hands holding on tightly to his upper arms.

"My mother, Chuck – my mom!" she showed him and he let go of her to stare at the door. Then at Kevin.

"Gilbert," Chuck stared at the man, still confused as to his presence.

"Bass," Kevin responded, none too happy about his presence.

"Blair!" Eleanor continued her pitiful sobbing on the other side of the door.

Blair pressed her ear against it. "Mom! Mom, it's ok – Chuck's here, we're getting you out."

Chuck studied the door. "We need to push it in." he stated, studying the frame. Kevin nodded in agreement.

"I tried, it's hard but we'll push." Kevin stated.

"Eleanor?" Chuck said into the door.

No answer.

"Mom?" Blair asked, her small hand on the door.

"Blair?" her mother's voice was small and vulnerable now and Blair hated it.

"Mom, listen – listen to Chuck. We're going to get you out, ok? I promise." Her voice faltered because she still couldn't believe there were bombs falling.

"Eleanor…" Chuck started. "I need you to get in the tub, ok? Get in the tub and we will get you out."

There was silence. "Mom?" Blair knocked. "Get in the tub, please get in the tub."

"I'm going!" she snapped at them from the other side which made Chuck smile and Blair noticed.

"Are you there, mom?" Blair questioned.

"Yes! But I have clothes on!" Eleanor informed her.

"Good!" Blair smiled. "Just a minute, ok?"

Chuck and Kevin nodded at each other and began pushing the wood as hard as they could. Dorota, Jacob and Blair joined in and after a few minutes of pushing, grunting and sweating the door gave in and it fell forward.

"Mom!" Blair scampered in and found her mom in the tub. Naked, holding her knees to her chest.

Blair looked around and grabbed a towel and quickly placed it over her mother's shivering frame.

"I was waiting, Blair," she told her. "I got in the tub."

Blair cried and held her mother. "It's ok, Mom. It's ok."

"I had no clothes." Eleanor informed her though Blair saw her pile of clothes on the floor next to the tub.

"It's ok." Blair whispered to her as Dorota crouched next to her.

"Here," Chuck handed her a fluffy white robe which Blair took gratefully and together her and Dorota were able to place it around Eleanor's frame thought she wouldn't move from the tub.

"I'll get her," Chuck leaned in and before Blair could protest Chuck easily lifted Eleanor put and carried her outside. Blair ran after him, trying to keep up with his steps as he deposited her on the bed.

"He's so nice," Eleanor smiled happily at Chuck once she was on the bed.

"Oh mom," Blair scooted to her and held her close, patting her hair. Chuck turned to look at Kevin, giving the man a nod of thanks and the men exited the room leaving the girls be.

------------

"What are you doing here?" Chuck asked, still out of breath and shaken at the entire situation.

Kevin ran his hands over his tousled blond hair and gapped at him. "I-I was coming to pay a visit when the first bomb dropped… and then I heard her screaming so I came up…"

Chuck was still breathing deeply. "Thank you."

Kevin nodded, not saying a word. "How did this happen?"

Chuck shook his head, still deathly afraid of the entire situation. He had to get Blair and her mother out of here.

Kevin noticed the wedding dress hanging from a corner and Blair's veil untouched.

"The wedding…" he stated.

"It's Friday." Chuck nodded, absently, still racking his brain. "Jacob!"

Jacob, still holding a napkin to his head, came to him nodding.

"See if we can get out of here before our window and take care of that cut," he instructed as the man nodded and scampered off.

Kevin turned to him. "You got a window?"

Chuck nodded, glancing at the man. "I have to get them out of here."

That's when Blair came to them, still shaken with red-rimmed eyes and mused hair.

"Chuck, what's going on?" she demanded and he'd never seen her look so very frightened. He walked to her and studied her.

"Are you ok?" he asked, studying her.

"No! No, I'm not ok!" she snapped, frazzled. "Why are there bombs? The war hasn't been announced, what's going on?"

Chuck took a tentative step to her and gently took her arm. "C'mon – sit down."

He sat on the couch and grabbed a bottle that hadn't broken in the explosion, pouring her some whiskey on a shot glass. She took it gratefully and gulped it down. Kevin watched her.

"Rest now, Miss Waldorf." Kevin assured her kneeling in front of her. Blair put her glass down and without looking at Chuck demanded another shot with her hand. Chuck smirked and gave her another one.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Kevin was taken back. "I-I'm Kevin Gilbert, I'm an investor for Mr. Bass' –"

"What where you doing here?" she countered before he could finish.

"I – I wanted to stop by and invite both of you to lunch –"

"Thank you." She stated and gulped back the second shot, looking much more at ease.

Kevin watched her drink as she wordlessly handed Chuck back her glass.

"You're very welcomed, Miss Waldorf." He smiled. "It's just nice to have a lady once more in the city."

"Well, we're leaving," she reminded him.

And Chuck finally nodded. He's been so very busy finding ways to legally kill Kevin that he'd missed the words coming out of Blair's mouth.

"We're getting married tonight," Chuck stated and this made Blair's head snap up to meet his eyes. "With all of this going on we have to get out of the city as quickly as possible."

"Chuck –"

"Don't you think its best, _dear_?" Chuck's eyes never left Kevin who had suddenly begun to seethe.

Blair blinked and then realized what was happening. There was a power-struggle between the two of them. Between the two men who had saved her. One was standing next to her, strong and silent but able to mouth off at any given moment. The other was on bended knee and for some reason this bothered her.

For all that was worth this man knew she was in love and engaged to the other man and that left an unsettling feeling in her stomach – like something was definitely wrong with this picture.

"Yes…" Blair stared at the man before her. "Yes, I think its best."

Kevin's eyes hardened and Blair saw it – without her knowing she reached out and grabbed Chuck's hand which she felt squeeze around hers.

"Can we talk, Chuck?" She asked, glancing up at him.

Chuck quickly pulled her up and nodded to Kevin as he took her to her private bedroom. He closed the door behind them and stared at her.

"What's going on?" she hissed, her eyes were still wide. "We need to get out of here."

He nodded, taking her in. Her hair was a mess, she was still shaking and a deep part of him wanted to just hold her and assure her that everything would be ok. That he would take care of them all; that he would get them all out. Yet in the back of his mind he realized he couldn't fight the world to save them.

"If I can get a window out for tomorrow we will get out –"

"No, Chuck – I don't want to spend another night here, I don't," she was trembling and without thinking he reached out and placed his hands on her shoulder.

"I will _try_ all I can for us to get out earlier, ok?" he said gently, like he was schooling a child.

She looked up at him and for the first time since the entire thing happened she realized this was Chuck talking to her; her childhood friend, her plotting partner, the boy who listened to her prat on about Nate, the guy she lost her virginity to, the guy who held her when he wouldn't hold any other girl… this was him.

That thought, for some reason came as a comfort to her because she _knew_ this man. He may look different, more grown up, they may be together in these crazy circumstances but he was still Chuck and she knew Chuck Bass.

She didn't now why but this made her loose it; maybe it was all the tension of the fact that they were getting attack, that they didn't know what the hell was happening and here he was promising to protect her. It was such a relief after protecting everyone for so long…

So she leaned into him and placed her head on his shoulder and his arms went quickly around her, holding her to him.

"We need to get out before –"

"Sir!"

They instantly pulled apart as they heard Jacob's roaring voice coming from the other side of the door. Chuck quickly opened the door and stared at Jacob, beckoning him for information.

"It's been declared, sir. The war." Jacob looked pale and anxious and Kevin was gone, Blair noticed.

"Fuck…" Chuck whispered, running his hands over his hair.

"What does this mean – what does this mean for us?" Blair demanded.

"And the window?" Chuck demanded of Jacob.

Jacob gulped. "They've pulled all windows. If we cross… it'll be on our own with no escort."

"Fuck!" Chuck began to pace, back and forth, back and forth.

"Call Julius, call Pyro – call anyone you fucking have to!" Chuck roared. "Get me an escort; get me an escort – now!"

Blair stared incredulously at Chuck as he paced and Jacob nodded, nearly running out of the room.

"Chuck…" Blair walked to him. "What does this mean?"

He finally stopped and stared at her. "No escort. The US government is not granting an escort to cross the Atlantic… if we cross it… we can _potentially_ be attacked."

"Potentially? Potentially!" Blair cried, flailing her arms. "Why didn't we leave before? Are we trapped?"

"We didn't leave before because we had no escort until Saturday, leaving before the escort would leave us in the same predicament we are now," he stated and she sat down, taking in this information.

"You're going to have to make a decision here, Blair…" Chuck said slowly. "I'm going. I'm going tonight."

Her eyes looked at him as he said these words.

"You're welcomed to come… continue with this or you can stay here." Chuck looked pained because in reality he wasn't going to leave her behind but the thought of placing her in even more risk by doing the journey over the sea felt even worse.

Either way she was at risk. She could've been seriously injured today and the fact was that Scotland would be the safest bet… well he _had_ to get her there.

Blair stared at him. She had two choices… stay in New York and try to survive as bombs fell around them with no one to protect them and the city became a war zone… or go with him. Risk the seven hour flight to London…

"How do we get to Scotland?" she asked quietly.

"I have connections in London – once there we take my boat to Scotland." He stated. "My place can only be reached by boat… there are no cars there, Blair."

She stared at him. "Chuck what is wrong with Scotland – why don't you talk about it?"

His jaw twitched. "I think it's best you just see it. I can't explain it."

"Is it safe?" she finally asked.

He nodded slowly. "Safest there it is. I've made it safe. I knew this was coming."

Blair gulped and looked down, her heart was beating, her chest felt tight and she wanted it all just to be ok. To go as planned when they would all be safe. In the end it was always her choice – he was letting her have the choice.

"Dorota!" she cried.

Chuck stared at her, confused as she stood and called her maid.

"Dorota!"

The ex-maid came out, confused. "Miss Blair?"

Blair took a deep breath. "Help me get ready… we're getting married now."

Chuck stood with her. "Blair –"

"Find a priest, find a pastor – find… just find." Blair was shaking.

"No." Chuck said with finality.

What the hell was wrong with him? Here she was willing to speed things up just to get out with him… no. This was wrong, he decided.

"No." he repeated as she studied him.

"We'll get married in Scotland… just pack your things…" he said tightly and stormed out.

Blair stood rooted to the spot, staring after him confused, relieved, and almost impressed. He wouldn't force her. She was thinking he would force her, make her marry him before he even helped her. But he didn't. He didn't force her. He was… willing to wait.

She wasn't willing to consider why at the moment she felt even more compelled to marry the man. It was probably all the excitement of the day, the fact that in a few hours she would be leaving New York… with her fiancé.

"Miss Blair…" Dorota said quietly and this shook Blair out of her thoughts, she turned to face Dorota. "He a good man, Miss Blair."

Blair didn't say a word because really, what could she really say except nod? Because thinking about it was all too much right now with a war happening, with bombs dropping, with trans-Atlantic flights and a sick mother… it was all too much.

One didn't find love in the time of war.

------

He hadn't smoked in years but he found himself desperately needing a blunt. He sat on his couch, next to one of the fallen laps in his room as some of his men removed the luggage from his room.

He could ask Jacob to get him a blunt but the man was too busy trying to see if they could get some rogue escort that would charge him an arm and a fucking leg – much more than he'd usually be willing to pay. If it was only him traveling he wouldn't have bothered but now he had Blair and her family with him and it just complicated things.

Women, in general, complicated thing. Actually _this_ woman in general complicated things. He hadn't seen her in years – in nearly a fucking decade and now he was all covered with her. He thought about her, smelled her, saw her – it was fucking ridiculous.

When the bombs had gone off he had felt his stomach drop, he had made it out of the limo and he had started running as fast as his feet could carry him. He had run the four blocks to the building and was more than grateful when the elevator was working and he had been able to get upstairs.

All he had seen in his mind was Blair trapped somewhere, bleeding and dying and that had driven him insane. He couldn't breath – he could just run and save her.

When he had seen she was alright he hadn't waited for her to push him off he had just grabbed her to assure himself that she was alright. And having her in his arms, with her small hands grasping back at him had made him feel alive and rejuvenated. Her desperate eyes when her mother had been trapped had done him in.

He was all going to hell. In a hand basket. Because after all these years Chuck Bass was _feeling_ something for Blair Waldorf once again.

Kryptonite.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jacob announced none other than Kevin Gilbert once more. Chuck fought back the urge to shoot the man but before he could contemplate what this meant Kevin entered – still in all his regal goodness.

"Bass," Kevin greeted, Chuck simply nodded – pretending the man had no name.

"What can I do for you?" Chuck ground out.

"I thought it best to contact my father and he's agreed to allow me to provide you an escort to London." Kevin stated all high and mighty.

Chuck slowly stood. "Thank you, but I can take care of this myself."

"Hiring rogue bounty hunters is hardly appropriate for this situation, especially having Miss Waldorf and her mother –"

"Gilbert." Chuck ground out, interrupting him. "You do not have to trouble yourself to seek out the well being of my fiancé; I will make sure she's taken care of."

"I understand, but I think you should let her see the options before making this decision on her behalf." Kevin stated and Chuck truly wanted to kill him.

Of course, the situation became more complicated when Blair walked in behind Kevin and had clearly heard his last statement.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Chuck stepped towards her. "Nothing, you're all packed?"

"I offered you both an escort to London, to ensure your safe arrival – it'll be a pleasure Miss Waldorf." Kevin's attention was now 100 percent Blair and Chuck hated it because he was exactly the type of white-bread that Blair would fawn all over.

Blair looked him over and then back at Chuck.

"We weren't able to get another escort?" She asked him and Chuck had to fight the urge to dance triumphantly around Kevin.

"I'm working on it –"

"They'll charge you millions of dollars, Bass – don't be proud," Kevin ground out.

Blair's eyes widened. "No, Chuck – please, he's offering."

He wanted to rip Kevin's head from his body. No, he had to calm down. That would be bad for business. Old Blair wouldn't have cared that it would cost him a few millions to get her safely across but this new Blair was well aware of money and she wouldn't let him spend that money – he was as sure of that as anything.

"It's settled then," Kevin smiled. "I presume then the wedding will be postponed?"

Blair looked at Chuck, willing for him to answer and Chuck did the only thing any red-bloody American male would. He placed his arm around Blair and pulled her to him, showing Kevin his territory.

"Temporarily, Gilbert."

Kevin glared back at Chuck, Chuck glared back at Kevin and Blair seethed between them.

"How long before we leave?" she interrupted them.

"How about two hours?" Kevin suggested.

"I can do two hours." Chuck snapped.

Blair sighed.

"Thank you, Mr. Gilbert. Chuck and I appreciate your concern for our well being."

Blair looked at Chuck; his jaw was twitching his molar off.

"Don't we, darling?" she snapped at him.

"Yeah, appreciation is seeping from my pores."

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To be continued

A/N - Dont worry, you'll find out next what is happening with Scotland. :P


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"_There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning."  
__Louis L'Amour_

When Chuck knocked on her door and walked inside, they were all packed. He brought with him a few men who swiftly entered and took their luggage. He was dressed all in black with just his scarf to contrast the color. His hair was slicked back, and Blair thought it make his cheekbones look more prominent.

"It's cold in Europe," he told her, and she nodded, walking to her purse and placing some gloves and a thick coat on herself. She turned to her mother, who looked as composed as ever, dressed in regal evergreen with a matching coat, scarf, and gloves.

"Keep her close, Dorota," she instructed, and Dorota nodded.

Chuck extended his hand, and Blair slowly walked to him and took it, their gloves hands held tightly together as he began walking out.

"Things are ugly tonight, it's dangerous to be on the streets… My men have guns and will use them if necessary," he warned her, and she nodded, unconsciously getting closer to him as they descended to the ground floor.

She had seen fires lit from her window and what few people were left in New York out in the streets making a ruckus. The elevator ride went by quickly as Eleanor asked Jacob 100 questions.

"Mom…" Blair warned her. "No more, ok?"

Eleanor sent her a withering glare and stared at Chuck. "Keep her quiet."

Chuck smirked, and Blair glared at him.

"At least I have your mother's permission," he whispered to her in a voice so low that it sent chills down her spine.

"I-I don't mind, Ma'am," Jacob assured her, and Dorota stared at him.

When the doors opened, they were greeted by quite an escort, twelve men all in fatigues and with guns, waiting for them. Chuck nodded at them, and they formed a protective cocoon as they walked through the lobby.

Blair was going to question it, but the moment she looked out the glass doors, she realized what was going on.

New York was in chaos. Eleanor looked frightened and held on to Dorota with all her might.

"It's alright, Miss Eleanor. It's alright," Blair heard her say, and Blair held on just as tightly to Chuck, who looked bravely ahead as they made it closer and closer to the doors.

Once outside, the smell of smoke, fire and… blood filled Blair's nostrils, and it made her want to barf. Blair gagged, and Chuck quickly offered her the end of his scarf to place over her face. She looked up at him from behind his scarf, and he nodded. She nodded right back.

She was alright. And his scarf smelled like him. It reminded her of high school, of his arms around her, of his kisses and tenderness. It made her feel warm. It made her reminisce about a time when the world wasn't falling apart.

People spotted them the moment they exited the building and, for some reason, wanted to attack them.

"Rich mother fucker!"

"Anarchy!"

Chuck's arm went around her as they made their way down the street and to the waiting SUVs. The street before the hotel was blocked with overturned vehicles, people littering the streets, trashcans on fire… It felt surreal to Blair, who had never been a fan of apocalyptic films. It was a movie set. It was a movie set, she kept telling herself.

Once the cars were in sight, they hurried their pace, the men around them pushing off a few people that tried to reach in and grab them.

"Get in, Ms. Eleanor," Dorota urged her mother once the door was opened. Blair let out a cry when a random man got on the roof of the SUV with a bat in his hand and a Yankees cap on his head.

"Fuck your money!" He screamed, raising the bat and, before Blair knew it, Chuck had grabbed her face and turned it into his chest, and the only thing Blair heard was a gun shot. She muffled a cry into him as she held onto him, her body shaking with disbelief.

And then he was pushing her into the car and the door was closing behind her. Eleanor sat pinned between her and Dorota, and Chuck slid into the front passenger seat with one of his men behind the wheel.

Blair watched from her window as Jacob got into another limo with Kevin and some men, while the rest of the men held people at bay as the cars made it through the crowd and chaos.

Her mother was shaking next to her, and Blair held onto her tightly.

"It's ok, Mom. It's ok. We're safe – we're going to London."

"I love London," her mother murmured.

Chuck glanced at her, and she nodded in thanks. Because if it weren't for him, she would be stuck in this mess and would've definitely not survived, despite all the years of her skin thickening.

It was almost an hour before they made it to the private airport, where Chuck's plane was waiting along with two other smaller planes that looked to have guns on them.

Blair took a sharp breath. Fighter planes.

"What business is the Gilbert family in exactly?" She asked Chuck.

He looked back at her. "Ever heard of Lockheed Martin?"

Blair's eyes widened slightly, and she nodded, swallowing. Once the car stopped, Chuck quickly slid out and the door was opened by a man. She got out and brought her mother with her as Dorota went around.

They walked close together to the plane and went up the stairs, despite having to convince Eleanor that it was safe. Blair let out a sigh of relief once her mother was safely buckled in with Dorota next to her. Chuck came up behind her.

"Don't be too relieved… We still have seven hours to anticipate," he said quietly to her, and she nodded.

"What are the chances that we'll get attacked?" She asked him, walking away to the back of the plane so that her mother wouldn't hear.

She watched him as his jaw twitched. "We have a chance that they're too distracted by the commencement of the war to notice us… But I can't guarantee it."

She felt an overwhelming gratitude towards him at that moment. He had saved her _and_ her family. With nothing for payment, nothing in return. Sure, she was marrying him once they got to Scotland, but he hadn't demanded it of her.

Recently, she didn't know what she was feeling towards him. And honestly – with this craziness around her – she didn't want to think about it. She couldn't.

"Thank you," she said, and her eyes locked with his.

Chuck felt all of his insides turn to mushy goo, and he didn't know how to respond, so he nodded tersely and pointed to a reclining chair she should take. She blinked, looking at him and then to the chair.

"Ok," she whispered and brushed past him.

Oh, he was in too deep. WAY too deep. He watched as she sat down, removing her coat and handing it to the stewardess. He walked to the front of the plane, where Kevin was just entering.

"My pilots have their instructions, Bass," he announced, and Chuck saw his eyes instantly zoom in on Blair's resting form.

"She must be exhausted," he commented, fully intent on going over and talking to her.

Chuck, of course, wasn't going to let him. "She's tired." And he pressed a hand to the man's chest to prevent him going further into the plane.

Kevin stopped and stared at Chuck.

"I'm on to you, Bass," he whispered.

Oh… _Now_ he was talking. Chuck was feeling all bad for Golden Boy because he knew he wouldn't be able to handle him if his claws came out, but Golden Boy had basically opened the flood gates, and Chuck had no problem letting him know exactly who Chuck Bass was.

"Do tell," Chuck smirked.

"You're using that poor girl, using her and taking advantage of her," he snapped.

"Am I?" Chuck hissed.

"You probably promised her all this wealth if she agreed to marry you," Kevin continued, and Chuck seethed, the goo recently stuck on his stomach now feeling poisonous.

"And you figure this… How?"

Kevin smirked at him. "Look at her… She's not in love with you."

This did something awful to Chuck's stomach. It felt like the man had sucker punched him and had brought him back to reality once more. _Of course_ Chuck would feel that he was falling for her. Calling her his fiancée, her little hands all over him, depending on him – it was all an illusion. He was fooling himself; he didn't love her. It was an illusion.

She cared for him – that was all. Just like he cared for her. They had been friends for so long that those feelings could've easily been misrepresented. They'd had sex, a long time ago, and a long time ago he had had considered his feelings love. Not now. He'd just had her back in his life for less than a week, so it was obviously nothing more than the need for the normalcy they knew back in high school.

In a way, he should thank Kevin for bringing him back to the reality of things; a Bass could easily forget.

Kevin seemed to be considering his silence and staring at his inner machinations.

"I apologize, Bass – I've overstepped my boundaries," he said quietly.

Chuck just stared at him, still lost in his own thoughts, Kevin's words still reverberating in his head. Then Kevin did something he didn't expect.

"I'll… leave you to it, then. Good luck." And he walked out of the plane, his shoulders sagged. Chuck gaped at the man, and then Jacob scurried to him.

"Sir?" He asked in a low voice.

"Are we ready for take off?" Chuck responded in a low, monotone voice.

"Y-yes," Jacob replied.

"Good. Get me some scotch," he ordered plainly and walked to the back of the plane, never looking at Blair, whose dark eyes were studying him. He walked all the way back and took a seat by himself. He shrugged off his coat and reclined back on the seat, intent on sleeping.

He felt the seat next to him get occupied, and he instantly knew it was Blair because it smelled like her.

"Chuck?" Her voice was low and soft.

She was staring at this unmoving form, eyes closed, lashes brushing against his prominent cheekbones, slight 5 o'clock stubble, and perfectly shaped lips. If he were a woman, he would be stunning. As a man, he was intoxicating.

He slowly opened his eyes, and they were a soft caramel color that they always turned to when he was relaxed and at ease. The last time she saw them this color, they were kissing and he was smiling down at her. They had made her forget the world. How strange that such an act that produced such a sensation could now cause quite the opposite. It made her realize even more accurately their position, their situation.

He needed a wife. He needed an image to save his precious company. She needed protection and money. The soft caramel color just served to remind her, to reinstall in her the reality of them.

No more fairytales, Blair. No more.

"Go to sleep, Blair… Once we're over the red zone, you'll be wide awake," he said softly.

She opened her mouth to respond, but decided against it. She quickly looked down and studied her pale hands. She nodded and walked away, settling herself on the other side of his plane and falling into a fitful sleep.

-------------

The Red Zone. She gulped as she looked out the window. She'd gotten exactly forty-three minutes of sleep before her thoughts and dreams jolted her awake. And she'd had terrible nightmares. Horrible ones, ones that made her wake nearly in tears, and Chuck staring at her from his side of the plane.

She'd dreamt she'd been in a birthing table, giving birth to a baby, and the war had started and the nurses and doctors had abandoned her. She's gotten up and picked up her baby and began running the streets of New York with it in her hands. There was chaos around her and when the baby had stopped crying, she'd looked down to find the baby a decomposed carcass. She hadn't mentioned the dream to him, of course, just averted her eyes.

The Red Zone was on fire, she had decided. Below them, the sea would burst momentarily with bright orange and red.

"They're not firing at us," he said softly, seeing her anxiety.

Her mother and Dorota were fast asleep, along with Jacob, who apparently snored.

She looked at him and sighed. "Then at who?"

"At each other," he replied and looked out the window.

They were quiet for a moment, both staring at the world below them.

"The whole world is on fire," she whispered quietly, and he didn't take his eyes off her then. She didn't know why, but it made her feel better. That fact was not lost on her, but she decided to bury it.

-----------

When the plane finally landed, she realied she had been tense the entire ride. Her mother, thank goodness, had slept nearly the entire way, waking only for the bathroom and hot cocoa. Blair, on the other hand, had been on pins and needles while they flew over the dangerous waters.

"Blair, those are the colors I plan to incorporate in my fall line," Eleanor had informed her as she studied the explosions of the ships below.

Chuck had looked at her then. She hated his look because she saw something akin to pity in his eyes, and she couldn't handle pity at this moment.

She hadn't looked his way until the plane finally landed.

It looked cold and rainy outside and, in the darkness, Blair could hardly make out the London she remembered.

Blair and Dorota got Eleanor warm and water-proof, and Blair slid into her own coat and gloves.

"Sir, we have press," Jacob came and informed Chuck. Chuck cursed quietly and finally looked at Blair.

"Reporters?" Blair asked, confused.

Chuck nodded. "London is not as bad off as New York, and no bombings here… The press is still very much alive and a bit in love with me."

Blair's heart drummed slightly. "What does that mean?"

"It means news of my engagement is public," Chuck spat out.

Blair nodded; she knew what she had to do. Without hesitation, she took his arm as he led her out of the plane. The moment they made it to the entrance, the flashes went off. It had been some years since Blair had been photographed, and she was slightly blinded by the cameras.

Chuck helped her down the plane as she avoided looking at the cameras.

"Mr. Bass, is it true about the news of your engagement?"

"Miss Waldorf, how long have you known Mr. Bass?"

"No comment, people," Jacob snapped at them, walking in front of Chuck. Three large bodyguards came forth and pushed the reporters away.

"Will it be a summer wedding?"

"Can we see the ring?"

"Give us a smile, Miss Waldorf."

"C'mon," Chuck murmured to her, pulling her with him as they made it into a building close to the plane. Blair instantly turned towards her mother once the door had closed behind them and the flashes had stopped. Her mother looked delighted and refreshed.

"I do hope I waxed," she commented, and Blair heard Chuck chuckle.

Blair looked at Chuck. "What now?"

"This way, please," Jacob instructed them, and they followed the man through some semi-abandoned corridors until they reached a door. Blair stopped in her tracks, staring at the object in front of them.

It was a carriage. Like a horse-drawn carriage. It was black and large and, from what Blair could see, it had green velvet seats.

"It's a short ride to the docks," Jacob told them, and Blair stared at Chuck.

"There are no cars here," he explained.

"Oh," was all that Blair managed to say because she was truly speechless. They helped her mother and Dorota get in the carriage, and Chuck helped her up, sliding in easily behind her.

Then the carriage was moving.

"How many horses do you own?" She asked, deciding to make conversation with Chuck.

Jacob let out a laugh, and Chuck smiled.

"Quite a few," he replied.

Blair looked between the two and continued to feel even more suspicious about Scotland.

Jacob was true to his word: the ride to the docks took less than 30 minutes and, before she knew it, they had halted. Jacob slid out with Chuck close behind. Blair took a breath and took Chuck's offered hand, sliding out herself. It must've been around 6am and the docks looked deserted, but there it was. The waiting boat.

Blair stopped and stared at the massive item. It was a sail boat. An old sailboat. Like from films and stories of one-legged sailors and giant whales.

"There's no gasoline and coal attracts attention, so this is what we get to use," Chuck explained, nodding at the boat.

Curious eyes started emerging from the ship, staring at Blair and her family.

"Sir!" A large man cried out in a jolly voice as he walked out of the ship.

"Captain Seer," Chuck nodded and greeted the man with a sturdy handshake.

Captain Seer looked over Blair and her fine clothes.

"Captain, this is my fiancée, Miss Waldorf, and her family. I expect your men will be on their best behavior with the ladies on board?" Chuck was nice about it, but Blair knew it was a fair warning.

The Captain let out a laugh of amusement. "Getting married, old chap?"

Chuck gave the man a tight smile.

"Aye, we can be couth."

Chuck nodded and offered his hand to Blair as he walked to the ship, and she took it quickly, holding onto him as the men stared at her.

"When was the last time they saw a woman?" She whispered to him.

Chuck looked down at her. "They've seen women. But you're something else."

And that right there took Blair's breath away. He was classifying her as _something else_ – something special. She couldn't control – even if she wanted to – the full blown-out smile that was now plastered on her face.

And for some off reason, he returned it. His eyes were still warm caramel.

"Ok, you two love birds, come along," Captain Seer called, laughing heartedly. "The ladies can have my quarters… It'll be a few hours, ma'am, before we get there."

"Get where?" Blair asked, snapping out of the Chuck-trance that she had apparently fallen under.

"Oh, we don't say," he replied.

She turned to Chuck, and he smiled. "You'll see."

As far as Captain's quarters went… This one was awful. She didn't want to imagine the rest. She felt she was on the set of Pirates of the Caribbean and, any moment now, Captain Jack Sparrow would waltz in.

"I don't like, Miss. Blair," Dorota told her once she had dusted the beds to a suitable condition.

"It's only a few hours, Dorota – then we'll be in Chuck's home," Blair appeased her.

Dorota huffed because she didn't like how far this was taking Blair from her home.

Once she was sure her mother and Dorota were settled in, she shed her coat and gloves and ventured outside the boat. This got the men's instant attention.

"Morning, Miss."

"Missus."

She nodded to them and walked ahead in search of Chuck.

She found the Captain.

"Miss Waldorf. I take my quarters were to your liking," the large man greeted her.

"Yes, thank you, Captain." She nodded, finding it within her scared self to give him a smile.

"Ever been to Scotland, ma'am?" He inquired.

"No," she answered, looking out into the ocean. "My family and I visited London many times, though."

"Of course." He nodded and lit his pipe. "Looking for the master?"

Blair tried not to smile and nodded.

"Oh… He's at his favorite spot," The man smirked and pointed towards the front of the ship. Blair nodded in thanks and went out in search of Chuck, but ran into Jacob, who looked like he had turned a dangerous shade of green.

"Dorota has a remedy for that," she offered, trying to stay out of his swaying way.

Jacob simply nodded and pushed past her before he was sick over the side of the rail. Blair grimaced and continued her trek to the front. And that's where she found him. She stared up at him.

He had shed his coat, jacket and scarf. He was now in his navy blue trousers and a white shirt. The sleeves had been rolled up and his collar lay open as he stood with one hand in his pocket and the other holding on to the rail. One foot was propped on a box and the wind had thrown his hair, making it whip wildly in the wind.

She thought he looked stunning. Like a character out of a romance novel. His features were set as he looked towards the rising sun. The boat was now speeding full ahead, flowing with the gusts. Despite the chill around them, the view was majestic.

He felt her behind him and turned his head to look down at her.

"The captain said this was your favorite spot," she said, nodding.

He smirked softly. "I'm king of the world here."

She laughed, remembering how her nine year old self made Chuck and Nate watch Titanic with her and Serena as the girls sobbed.

He let go of the rail and reached out, grabbing her hand and pulling her up. She let out a yelp but, before she knew it, he had placed her before the rail and before the immense ocean. His body was behind hers as he pinned her there. His chest fit perfectly on her back and his hands went on either side of hers, reaching down to her fingers.

Her heart sped up, because what girl wasn't in love with this moment?

Once their fingers were intertwined he extended their hands, and she felt like she was flying. She let out a laugh as the sheet force of the wind surrounded them, and it was magical once more.

Thoughts of the war, of New York, were so very far from her mind that she could fool herself and convince herself that he was in love with her, and she was equally in love with him. This was the moment they realized their love.

She felt his head pressed against her ear as she let herself relax into his chest.

"You see?" He asked quietly. "Here… Nothing can touch you."

And she realized then and there why he was in love with this epic life of his that he had created.

There was no darkness here, the sun shed its golden light on everything, and it felt like it was slowly cleaning her soul and repairing all the damage done over the years. She turned her head to look at him, and he slowly met her eyes.

Their eyes remained locked, and she felt the wind knocked out of her lungs.

Here she was. Blair Waldorf, Upper East Side princess, in the arms of the man she had lost her virginity to. The man who had saved her… And who would be her husband.

Despite her best efforts, despite the reverberating words of realism her mind threw at her, despite her circumstance, she couldn't help but feel… That she was slowly and surely… Falling helplessly under his charm.

"Is this where you ran away to?" She whispered, still entranced.

And that did something that broke the spell, because he instantly stiffened and pulled back. The harsh reality of the loss of heat that his body had offered cruelly jolted her. She felt naked and exposed and in way over her head.

She couldn't control it. She was entirely at his mercy, entirely at his will. And that, above all, scared her most of all.

He said not a word, simply backed away and down the small steps.

She was left breathing hard, confused and utterly ashamed of herself. So she scurried to her quarters, ignoring the looks the men gave her along the way.

--------

The journey by ship took most of the day, and Blair decided to stay in her quarters with her mother and Dorota for most of it. The temperature was dropping, and Jacob had explained that they were headed north.

Eleanor, for her part, continued sketching in her pad and refusing to eat, which worried Blair to no end.

"Is there a doctor nearby Chuck's home?" She asked Jacob, and he nodded.

"For now…" he replied.

"What does that mean?" She asked, confused.

"With the war… There's a good chance they'll draft him," Jacob said in all seriousness.

"What do you mean, 'draft him?'"

"Well… Medical personnel and young men under the age of thirty will be the first drafted."

She opened her mouth. "Chuck's under thirty."

Jacob looked solemn and slowly nodded.

"They wouldn't draft him, would they?"

Jacob cleaned his glasses and didn't meet her eyes. "He's got sufficient pull to avoid it for awhile... But who knows how long the war will last?"

She didn't know why, but this thought made her mouth dry and sour.

-------

A soft knock woke her from her restless nap some hours later. The sun was setting and she hated the feeling the night brought. Like they were the only people in the world left.

Dorota answered the door and turned to Blair. Chuck stepped in, and Blair quickly sat up, rubbing her cheek.

"We're here," he announced, nodding and walking out.

Blair scampered up, slipping her thick coat on once more. She and Dorota quickly prepared Eleanor. Their luggage was outside already when they stepped out of the captain's quarters.

The sun had just set, so there was a soft glow around them – just enough for her to see exactly where they were.

In the middle of nowhere.

"Where are we?" She asked out loud.

"The highlands." Captain Seer came up next to her.

"But there's nothing here!" She cried. "Where's Chuck?"

The Captain nodded to the other side of the boat. She found Chuck speaking to a man.

"Ride on ahead, instruct them to prepare some room for us," he told a small short man, who quickly went down a ladder on the side of the ship to a smaller boat. Blair watched as he rowed his way to what looked like a private dock with torches lit.

"Chuck, where the hell are we?" She demanded, staring at the dock they were approaching.

Chuck looked her over. "Scotland."

"This is a mountain range," she replied.

"Well… I told you it was safe," he replied easily.

"It's in the middle of nowhere!" She looked around. Not one house, not one building… Just some men by a private dock and… More carriages.

"We're not there yet," he explained and walked past her, giving the men instructions as the ship approached the docks.

The three women huddled together, shivering in the cold as the men unloaded the cargo, which was way more than Blair had thought was coming with them.

"Jacob, what is all this?" She asked him as the men continued the unloading.

"Supplies, ma'am," he replied and continued giving orders. Dorota huffed.

Once the boxes were off the ship, Chuck walked to them. "C'mon."

They slowly followed him off the boat and to the waiting docks. They made their way to waiting carriages, and Chuck helped her mother and Dorota into one, and then turned to her and offered his hand into another one. She nodded and stepped up as he slid next to her.

"How long?" She asked him.

His features were shadowed. "We should be there by dawn."

She gaped at him. "Chuck. Exactly _where _do you live?"

He smirked at her. "Don't you trust me, Blair?"

All this time she had thought something was seriously wrong with Scotland, but she was slowly seeing that Chuck had converted this into some sort of secluded safe zone for himself… And now for her and her family.

"Yes," she finally replied. "I do."

"Good, get some sleep," he whispered and leaned back on the velvet seat, intent on sleeping.

She studied his profile in the darkness and shrugged, deciding she was entirely too tired to question it anymore.

--------

To be continued


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_And you see the things they never see  
__All you wanted, I could be  
__Now you know me, and I'm not afraid  
__And I wanna tell you who I am  
__Can you help me be a man?  
__They can't break me  
__As long as I know who I am"  
__Johnny Rzeznik 'I'm Still Here'_

He knew this journey well, his back and legs knew his journey well, but he didn't know why this time it took such a toll on him when he blinked awake.

That's when he quickly realized what the problem was. A small figure was cuddled next to him, and he'd been supporting her through the night. He shifted slightly to look at her face. Blair was sleeping peacefully, one hand fisted on his shirt, holding onto him, and the other tucked under her chin.

He swallowed.

She smelled like pink flowers, and the feel of her on him instantly hardened him. He cursed and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He was a grown man, for Chrissakes! He was not some hormonal teenager who got hard at the sight of a girl on him!

The carriage shifted, coming to a stop, and Chuck knew they'd arrived. He felt Blair stir, and the thought alone of Blair finding him with a hard-on over her sleeping form quickly deflated him. He thanked his many years of experience.

She seemed to realize she was on him and quickly sat up, wiping at her face with wide brown eyes. It was dawning and light was filtering into the carriage.

"W-where are we?" She stuttered, and he thought she was cute when nervous.

Chuck stuck his head out the carriage window and smirked. "At the gate."

Blair scooted up and stuck her own head out, only to find a long stone wall going for as far as her eye could see over a green grassy hill. The stone wall was higher than a man and very thick.

There was a break in the wall, just wide enough for the carriages to get through, but the carriage stopped before reaching it. She nearly jumped back when two men on horseback came out from hiding behind the wall carrying guns.

When they saw Chuck, a smile broke over their faces.

"Mr. Bass!" They cried, galloping towards them. Chuck jumped out of the carriage, making Blair scramble after him, but he held a hand up for her to stay in.

"Peter arrived four hours ago, sir – your requests were given to Clara," one of them confirmed.

"Good," he nodded. "Call for an escort."

"Yes, sir," the other replied, and took a transponder device out of his tool belt.

As he gave directions, Chuck got back into the carriage, and Blair stared at him.

"Why do we need an escort?" She asked him.

"Because, despite the expensive lengths I have gone through to keep the land reserved, these are desperate times and desperate people have jumped the wall in order to get food," he said quickly. "We've been known to use force."

"How many people are we talking about here?" She asked, studying his profile.

"A few," he nodded, and she heard more horses outside. When she peeked outside, there were three men on horseback and a woman, all armed. Once the carriage driver saw them, he entered beyond the wall.

"So this is all yours?" She asked him.

"I thought it was all _ours_," he smirked at her, and she was happy at recognizing the devilish boy she had known long ago.

"When did you buy all of this?" She inquired.

"Bart did. I simply noticed it years later… After Japan… And I decided to make it something more," he treaded carefully.

The land was stunning. There were hills covered with soft grass and oxen-like creatures gracing the land, herded by men on horseback that waved their hats to the carriages when they saw it.

She was stunned when Chuck reached out and waved back at them.

"You own cattle?" She asked, amused.

"I don't go near them, but yes – they came with the land," he smile.

"Do all these people work for you?" She wondered in awe.

He shifted, thinking about it. "Yes and no."

She was quickly distracted by a family of reddish deer that trekked in front of them. The men seemed to pause to let them go by, and then they continued their journey across the plains.

"How much land is it?" She couldn't help firing off so many questions.

"Almost twenty square miles," he answered. "This area is very rural… The people here come from different places."

"You go around the world adopting needy people and bring them here?" She asked, still staring at him with slight awe.

He didn't look at her because he didn't like where she was going with this. He made a profit; he was a man who made a profit. He wasn't a philanthropist, a hippy tree-hugging soul. He didn't like this take on his persona that she was etching in her mind.

"Blair – it's not like that –"

"Mr. Bass!"

Blair looked startled and popped her head out the window, and that was when her breath stopped short.

There, nestled amongst the mountains, the valleys and forests was… A village. At the end of the village was a spectacular Tudor-styled home, easily three floors high and poised before the ruins of an old, ancient castle.

"Chuck…" she whispered. Children were running from the small homes in this village and towards the carriages.

People were milling around the village, a lot on horseback, going about their business, working, talking. They were dressed in normal clothing, despite Blair being preparing to see them in medieval skirts. When they children cried out towards the carriage, a lot of people stopped what they were doing and turned to them. Blair wondered why the children came to them, and that was when Jacob, in the carriage behind theirs, handed them over candy, and the kids cried out delightedly.

Blair smiled and turned to Chuck, who was staring at her, gauging her reactions.

"What is this, Chuck?" She asked him as they rode through the village and towards the large home.

"It's my home," he said carefully.

"Yes… I know. But what is this? Do you own them? Do they work for you? Why are they here… This is a town… A village…" Blair was lost for words.

He stared at her intently, judging exactly what she was saying.

"I don't own them, they do work for me… In the sense that I provide shelter, and they work the land for its food. They're here… Because they had no where else to go, and it's called Wallace."

"Wallace?" She asked, confused.

"The name of this. It's called Wallace or Wallace Hills," he explained. "And… I should warn you that despite my asking for them not to call me this… I am at times referred as Lord Bass."

She bit back a laugh but failed. "W-what?"

He looked pink and fumed, turning away.

"I've asked them not to call me that," he spat out.

"Charles Bass, Lord Wallace of Hills…. You're a Lord." She was amused as could be.

"I am not – look, forget I said anything," he muttered.

"Yes, M'lord," Blair grinned.

----------

"Lord Bass is back!!" Ruby came running into the home, and she stopped what she was doing. Her heart sped.

"He's back!!" Another voice cried, and she looked around happily in her room.

He was back. She knew he would be back! And soon… Everything would change. She couldn't control her grin as she looked over her new room once more.

"Miss Clara!!"

Her door was opened and Ruby's happy smiling face came to view. "Lord Bass is back!"

"I heard you," Clara told the girl and walked to her. "Be on your best behavior and kindly don't shout in his home."

"Oh, Miss Clara!" Ruby continued. "They say she's beautiful – like a Princess!"

Clara shook her head at the young girl as they descended the stairs. "Who is?"

"With dark ebony curls, ruby lips, and pale skin. Like Snow White!" Ruby continued. "They say they're madly in love."

Clara stopped and stared at the girl. "Who?"

"His fiancée, Miss Clara!" Ruby laughed and descended the rest of the steps. Clara paused, her stomach souring as she watched the rest of the girls convene and chat happily, sighing dreamily.

She couldn't believe it. It was a rumor mill once more. She quickly walked out the door that faced the village and saw the carriages coming. He wouldn't do that to her. He wouldn't…

The carriages stopped by the front of the home and he stepped out, graceful as ever. A smile tugged at her lips, the smile that always formed around him. He was alone. She let out a breath of relief. She knew it…

And then he turned into the carriage and held out a hand, and out _she_ came.

Clara's hopes, illusions, and dreams seemed to shatter before her eyes.

There she was. Dark ebony curls, porcelain skin and perfect bow-shaped ruby lips.

--------

When Chuck reached in and offered her his hand, she looked down at it and considered. Stepping out of the carriage meant that she was embracing this place, this life he had created for himself, for these people and now for her.

What was she debating? She already knew her choice. Really, what life was left for her outside of this? A destroyed New York? The fields of Kansas with Dan and Serena? No. She had made her choice: she had accepted his proposal, and she had done things that a week ago she wouldn't have dreamt of doing. So she took his hand and let him pull her out.

People around her stopped and stared, and she shyly stayed close to Chuck. Chuck waited until Jacob had helped Dorota and her mother out, and then began walking towards the house.

"Everyone is staring at me," she whispered to him, and he smirked.

"They're just curious," he deadpanned and led her up the massive steps into the home.

"Is this your house?" She asked him.

"Yes. I had it built in front of the castle. I'll show you why later," he explained.

They paused before a young woman, who was staring at her in a very strange manner. Blair didn't really know how to place it. Jealousy? Rancor? Hate? Whatever it was – it wasn't good.

She had dark blond hair, tied up in a ponytail with pale skin, wide pale blue eyes and thin lips. She was dressed in a plain denim dress with thick boots and loads of earthy bracelets.

"Clara," Chuck greeted, and the woman stopped staring at Blair and turned to Chuck. Blair saw her eyes instantly change.

"Mr. Bass," she greeted, smile plastered on her face. "We've missed you."

Chuck nodded and motioned to Blair. "I gather you received my message, and Miss Waldorf's quarters are ready?"

Blair gulped when the woman didn't take her eyes off Chuck.

"Y-yes… We misunderstood the message. We didn't expect you to bring company…" she threw a glance (of pure hatred) towards Blair, who nearly reeled back.

A young girl, no more than 10, with thick honey curls and green eyes popped her head behind Clara and looked at Blair with wide innocent eyes.

Blair was taken aback.

"Ruby, are you going to greet Miss Waldorf?" She heard Chuck ask, and the girl smiled at Blair.

"You're pretty," she said shyly.

Blair smiled, and Clara fumed at her. "To your chores, Ruby," Clara snapped at the girl, and Blair decided, instantly that she didn't like Clara. At all.

Chuck throttled ahead, going past Clara. Blair followed him, sparing Clara a swift glance. The two women's eyes met icily.

Blair stopped in the foyer and took in the home that Chuck had built. It was magnificent; tall ceilings, beautiful chandeliers, dark wood with tall, wide windows and a stunning fireplace in the midst of the small sitting room.

It was dark and rustic, yet homey and full of all the classic splendor Chuck had grown up knowing in New York. She also noticed quite a few Asian influences, and she wondered once more about his time in Japan that made him close up before so very drastically.

"I think it best we settle in, and then I'll give you a tour," Chuck announced, watching as she took in his home.

He didn't know exactly what to feel as she studied his house with bright eyes. She looked absolutely fascinated by it, which pleased him to no end.

"C'mon, Blair," he reached a hand, and she took it without even looking at him.

"Chuck… It's beautiful," she said softly, and he gave her a small smile as he led her up the grand staircase.

Clara almost ran over Blair as she went ahead of them.

"Perhaps a small tour be good," she said, her dark blond hair bouncing behind her.

Chuck stared at her, confused. "Miss Waldorf is tired, Clara – I'll show her to her quarters."

Blair saw the woman's face panic.

"It's not ready!"

Blair's inner bitch, long dormant, peeked out.

"Oh, I don't mind – you'll find me to be much more complacent than you think me to be," Blair smiled all too sweetly at her.

She felt Dorota giving her a disapproving look from behind her. She ignored it.

Clara's nostrils flared as she stared at Blair, and that was when Blair knew the girl was hiding something in her supposed quarters.

"Show me, Chuck – I can't wait to see it," she placed her gloved hand on his chest, and he looked down curiously at Blair, who smiled charmingly at him.

Chuck studied Blair. Perhaps it was her lack of sleep through the long trip, but she seemed more and more like her old self. There was a slight smirk on her lips, which reminded him of her scheming self. He didn't know why, but it made her all the more attractive.

He didn't reply, simply pulled her with him as they continued up the stairs and Clara fussed next to them.

"You really should let me complete all the preparations, Sir," she continued, intent on ignoring Blair.

"It's quite alright, Clara – please make sure Miss Waldorf's luggage is brought to her room," Chuck said distractedly.

Blair smiled once more sweetly at Clara. "Yes, thank you, Clara."

Clara insisted on staying with them as they reached the top of the stairs, which only served to confirm Blair's suspicions. Before Blair knew it, they stood before a large mahogany door, and Clara plastered herself before it.

"It really is quite unsuitable, sir!"

Blair didn't miss a beat and nearly pushed her off. "It really is no trouble."

And then the door was opened, and Blair sauntered in as Chuck studied her reaction to the room he had set aside for her.

Blair stopped the moment she entered it. This really was not what she was expecting. Tall ceilings, thick lush carpet, beautiful pastoral paintings on the walls, and a large impressive bed with soft blue silk sheets. There were lovely ivory lamps around the room and scattered around the large suite were hydrangeas in beautiful glass vases. Blair gasped, taking in the place, including the gorgeous large windows that revealed a view of the ruins of the castle.

Chuck leaned back on the wall, stuffed his hands in his pockets as she studied her view.

"Does it meet your standards, Miss Waldorf?" He drawled out, and she instantly turned to him.

She loved it, he could tell.

"A girl can never tell… Unless she inspects the closet," she smirked at him, and he pleasantly went to open the closet.

Blair spied Clara close her eyes in mortification, and that was when she knew what was happening here. The girl had been living in this room.

Low and behold, a few sad pieces hung from the closet.

Chuck looked taken aback. Blair put her most innocent face.

"Oh… Are those mine?" She asked Clara.

Clara's eyes opened, and she glowered at Blair.

"No… Clara whose are these?" Chuck demanded, and Jacob scurried forward.

Clara remained quiet.

"Miss Parker, whose are these?" Jacob demanded.

"T-they're mine, sir. Apologies, I'd been using the room in your absence. It won't happen again."

Chuck stared at her, confused, and Jacob looked aghast.

"Have them removed promptly," Chuck commanded obviously not happy with Clara. He took Blair's elbow, showing her the other side of the room.

Blair stared at the mahogany door before them, and looked at Chuck questioningly. He leaned and opened the door, revealing a small hallway and a door on the other end.

"That's my room, in case of anything," he said quietly – just for them.

Her eyes widened as she studied him. A tiny hallway was the only thing that separated them from one another. Just a little hallway. Four steps, and she was his.

She swallowed and nodded.

Chuck turned to look at Jacob. "Please show Mrs. Waldorf and Dorota to their quarters."

Jacob promptly nodded and turned to point Dorota to the door. She pretended he didn't exist until Blair sent her glance, and she finally acquiesced to admit he was real. Blair watched them leave, then looked at Clara, who was looking as upset as she had been since the moment she had laid eyes on Blair.

"Clara," Chuck begun. "I need preparations for the wedding. I'm sure Blair will instruct you in whatever she needs."

Blair stared at Chuck. "Where are you going?" She asked him.

"I need sleep," he shrugged off his coat and handed it over to Clara, without looking at her. "And I gather you need it, too. I'll see you at dinner." And with that he took her hand and kissed the back of it, walking away.

Blair took a sharp breath and was left staring at Clara as Chuck's men started placing her luggage inside of the suite.

Clara stared at her defiantly, and Blair rolled her eyes, walking to the windows.

"I wouldn't get too comfortable, Miss Waldorf," Clara came up behind her.

Blair arched a brow and without turning sighed. "I would remove your clothes from my closet." Then she turned. "And thought you may not like it, I am now and will be the Lady of this house."

Clara's nostrils flared. "You're not the first one, you know. He's had women before."

Blair gave her a 'you don't know how many women I've seen with Chuck look'. "Call the press."

But this only served to give Clara a wider smile. "And you're not his first wife either."

This was news. Blair blinked at her, willing herself not to show emotion, but the girl was smart and smirked at Blair, turning and walking away.

Blair slowly sat on her bed as Clara's words echoed over and over in her head.

_You're not his first wife_.

She felt sick.

She didn't know why, but she felt sick.

She had no idea what to do with that information… All she needed to do was walk down the hallway and into Chuck's room and demand the truth. That was all she needed to do, but this entire situation felt sour.

So she decided, once the men had left her room and a young shy girl removed Clara's clothes from her closet, that she just wanted to lay down on her bed and sleep. And sleep she did.

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When she woke, it was dark and only the soft glow of the night lamp prevented her from scrambling up, scared out of her mind. She was in a strange place, a strange room with an all too familiar story around her.

There was a soft knock on her door as she closed the curtains that faced the castle, because the truth was, that it was creepy at night.

"Come in," she said, and she smiled when Ruby entered. Ruby gave her a small bow.

"Can I help you get ready for dinner?" She asked Blair.

Blair smiled at her. "Where's Dorota?"

"The Ukrainian?" Ruby asked, and Blair nodded. "She's helping Mrs. Waldorf with a bath."

"Oh…" Blair looked around and noticed all her suitcases were empty.

"We placed all of your clothing in the closet," Ruby pointed. "It was wrong of Clara to think this her room."

Blair smiled and walked to the closet – this time the large and organized space belonged to the clothing Chuck had bought her, and what little she had left of her own.

"What do you think I should wear?"

But Ruby had bounced to the other end of the closet. "Is this your wedding dress?"

The young girl was pointing at the ivory gown, and Blair nodded. "Yes."

"It's beautiful… Like a princess dress," Ruby whispered, touching the fine lace.

"C'mon," Blair pulled her from the dress. It mostly made her uncomfortable because some time in Chuck's past, he'd seen another woman walk down an isle. And who knew what had happened to her? Was she still alive? Had they divorced? Did he keep her in the attic? One hundred and one question that he was certainly answering tonight.

"I think you should wear this," Ruby put in, pointing to a short dark green cocktail dress, cap sleeves, cinched waist and a flowing shirt. "With these shoes!" And she picked up from the array of shoes a pair of strappy silver sandals.

"You have good taste," Blair smiled at the girl.

"My sister was a designer before the crash… I remember when I was little, I used to play in the shops," Ruby put in as Blair took the dress from the hanger.

"My mother was a designer, too," Blair replied.

"Oh, I know," she smiled.

Ruby helped Blair as best as she could to zip up her dress and comb her hair. Once she was done, Ruby pulled Blair's hand and took her to her dresser.

"Lord Bass had this brought for you," she said, and Blair opened the drawer. She gasped when she looked in to find a bottle of Chanel no. 5.

He remembered. She smiled slightly as she touched the bottle.

She hadn't had perfume in years. She softly picked it up and opened it, letting the scent invigorate her.

Oh, how she missed it!

She dabbed only a little behind her ears and then behind her knees.

"Your wrists?" Ruby asked, studying Blair's every move.

"No… let him find the scent," Blair winked at her, and Ruby smiled blissfully.

"You look even prettier than before," Ruby exclaimed as she led Blair out of her room and into the outside hallway. That's when they ran into Dorota.

"Miss Blair, I stay with your mama," Dorota informed her.

"What's wrong? Is she ok?" Blair asked, concerned. She'd been so pre-occupied lately that she hadn't really fussed over her mother.

"She fine, Miss Blair. That Mister Jacob brought her food, and she ate in her room," Dorota explained with a bit of a sour expression.

"Oh… ok. Let me know if you need anything," Blair told her, squeezing her hand as Ruby led her away.

Blair was refreshed enough to study the home as Ruby led her to the dinning room. The house was beautiful: new construction that had beem customized to look flawless. It looked aged and historic. She loved it.

When they entered the dinning room, Chuck was entering on his end. So that they both entered together.

He stared at her. She looked absolutely stunning, in a vintage Stella McCartney dress that he had handpicked himself.

"Thank you, Ruby," he said, and the little girl gave Blair a smile before nodding and running out of the room. "Your mother?" He asked.

"She ate in her room, Dorota is with her," Blair explained, taking the seat he offered her.

She watched him as he walked to his seat and two menservants poured some wine in their goblets.

"I suppose it's just you and me," he said, tugging at his collar.

She nodded, thanking one of the men as they placed the salad before her. Chuck quickly dug in, obviously hungry.

She had a bone the size of Whales to pick.

"Chuck?" She asked him, placing the napkin delicately on her lap.

He stopped and stared at her.

She gulped, because she really didn't want to have this conversation with him at all.

"Will I be your first wife?" She finally asked.

And he didn't have to say anything – not a word. He simply set down his fork and leaned back.

"I see," she said, averting her eyes. "What happened?"

"She died," he replied evenly, without a hint of emotion.

Blair opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"In Japan… during the bombings," he continued softly.

"Did you love her?" She asked quietly, so afraid of the answer that the question itself burned her tongue.

He looked at her. "No. We knew each other for less than ten days, and she was a sweet girl who didn't deserve to die so young."

Blair took a breath and looked down. "Then why did you marry her?"

Chuck's jaw twitched as memories of a young Japanese girl, smiling and laughing, flashed before his eyes.

"I really don't want to talk about it." And he continued eating his field greens.

Blair stared at him for a while.

She didn't know what to think. Relief that he didn't love the girl? Anger for him not sharing this information with her before? Sadness for all of his loss?

She didn't know. When it came to Chuck Bass, she just didn't know anymore.

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To be continued


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"_Ah, when to the heart of man  
__Was it ever less than a treason  
__To go with the drift of things,  
__To yield with a grace to reason,  
__And bow and accept the end  
__Of a love or a season?"  
__Robert Frost_

Once dinner was finished and their plates were taken away, Chuck stood and walked towards her.

"C'mon, I'll give you a tour – it's only proper, since this is now your home," He offered gallantly, and she nodded, quickly standing.

She followed him for a few feet when he stopped, turning sharply on his shoes – making a squeaky noise on the polished wood floor. He raised his arms and looked around.

"This is the dining room," He announced in all seriousness, and she laughed.

"Yes, M'lord."

He glared at her.

She followed him out and into a lavish, beautiful sitting area. He watched her as she walked in, took in the warm fire, the upholstered chairs, the wet bar, the paintings, the chessboard, and the wall filled with books.

She walked over to the books and touched their spines, running her fingers lightly over the edges.

"It's quite a collection, Charles," she smiled at him coyly over her shoulder, and he smirked, going to pour himself a brandy.

"Drink?" He offered.

"Port," she requested, and he smiled, nodding. He pulled out his favorite and served her, handing over the drink when he was done.

She nodded, taking the drink from him.

"You don't need to get me drunk, Chuck – I'm still marrying you," she teased him, walking away and swaying her hips.

He became intoxicated by those hips, following them around the room as she touched the furniture and appraised the curtains. He could get used to this.

"Tomorrow, I will show you the town," he continued, twirling the brandy in his glass.

"Hummm…" she murmured. "I don't like these curtains."

He shrugged. "Change them."

She turned to look at him. "Are you serious?"

He walked to her and touched the curtains himself. "It'll be a few months before you'll be able to leave Wallace… My suggestion is that you change it to whatever makes you happy."

She studied his face by the glow of the fire.

Chuck Bass was well known for having the face of a delicious devil. Like a lurking Casanova he had deflowered more Upper East Side debutantes than Carter Baizen and Luke Antoine Picard combined. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a billionaire's son, or his low voice, or perhaps it was the way he looked intensely at a woman and made her the center of his universe for that moment.

Like he was doing now.

Blair had to remind herself in the past that he was only obsessed with her because she never truly wanted him back. What was the excuse now?

He was marrying her, taking care of her, handing her good port, and making her feel seventeen once more under his smoldering eyes.

"So I have artistic liberties?" She asked, walking away from his close proximity.

He nodded, taking a sip from his drink and never taking his eyes off her. She averted her gaze.

"So what do we call this room?" She asked him, trying to get away from the fire. It was getting impossibly hot in there.

"What would _you_ name it?" He asked, gesturing around.

"Well…" She considered this. "It's part study, part retiring area… part library –"

"And it has fantastic views of the village in the morning sun," he put in, pointing to the closed windows.

"It's an eclectic mess… I'll call it… The room of possibilities," she smiled.

He studied her profile, her pert nose and rounded lips. God, she was a beauty.

Possibilities indeed.

He didn't know why he felt like a predator this night. Maybe it was because she was in _his_ home, maybe it was the way she fit into the dress _he_ had picked, maybe it was because her undivided attention was on _him_ tonight. No one else.

"C'mon… I'll show you the gardens," he offered.

"At night?" She asked, confused.

"There's no better time to enjoy them," he purred, and she was drawn to the majestic picture he painted with his words.

She had images of mystical gardens only truly appreciated at midnight where magical flowers bloomed by the light of the moon. So she followed him as he pointed out different things in the house, encouraging her to look over the rooms, encouraging her to change what she liked.

The house continued in the same theme throughout and Blair, without letting him know, decided she wanted to change certain things. Put in a 'woman's touch' to add to what he had already created.

She felt someone following them and turned sharply to see bouncing blonde curls.

"Ruby?" She asked, and Chuck stopped talking, turning to look at the young girl peeking her head out.

"Ruby?" He asked, confused.

"I'm sorry, Lord Bass –"

Chuck sighed, and Blair smirked.

"It's quite alright. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?" Blair asked her, and as the young girl stepped out of the shadows, they saw she was already in her pajamas.

"I snuck out," she confessed.

Chuck looked amused.

"Are you going to the gardens?" She asked, eyes wide and curious.

"Yes, go to bed before your sister finds you," he commanded, and she looked crestfallen.

Blair looked at the girl. "Maybe another night, Ruby."

Ruby walked to Blair, her bare feet padding on the wooden floors. "You must be careful of the fairies, Miss Blair."

Chuck rolled his eyes, and Blair smiled.

"Fairies?" She asked.

"Yes, Mr. Grant says Scottish fairies are tricky, and when they see two lovers abound, they play games with them; making them feel things they shouldn't." Ruby's eyes were wide with imagination.

"Mr. Grant talks too much," Chuck muttered.

"Oh, but it's true!" Ruby insisted, staring only at Blair. "Sometimes at night, and most especially when the moon is full, you can hear them dancing outside. So, you see, you must be careful. Once they find you – they can cast a spell that make you be in love for the rest of your life."

Blair smiled at her and turned to Chuck. "Do not worry, Ruby. I'm sure _Lord Bass_ will protect me."

Chuck swallowed the rest of his brandy, attempting not to roll his eyes again.

"Here!" Ruby pulled a handful of beans from the pocket of her flower pajama bottoms.

Blair laughed.

"Mr. Grant says these will protect you," Ruby told her as Blair tried to keep them all in her hands.

"Beans." Chuck looked at Blair's hands.

"Magic beans," Blair smirked at him.

"Ahh." Chuck arched a brow. "Off with you. Go to bed."

Ruby looked at them once more, and then ran off the other direction. Blair stared after her.

"How did Ruby come to be here?" She asked him as they made their way outside.

"Her sister is here… Her mother was my father's chef, so they were one of the first ones that came here…" he explained, walking down the steps and into the gardens.

"Where are her mother and father?" She asked him.

Chuck's face darkened. "Polly died back in New York, and her father… He's never come back…He volunteered for money, and he's been MIA since. I've tried various times to find him but failed."

Blair gulped.

"She doesn't remember them much, and she's the youngest person who lives in the house, so I let her run around and do odd things here and there," he continued. "Her sister does my tailoring."

Blair paused and looked out into the gardens, the sight stealing her breath away.

"Oh, Chuck…" she whispered.

He smiled.

First of all, the gardens were encased in a giant greenhouse. Throughout the paths and the fountains, there were Chinese lanterns, lighting the way into hidden spots and highlighting majestic and mysterious flowers. There were also trees, their hanging leaves making pockets that lent shade to stone benches with entangled lovers carved out of the stone.

There were also birds. She heard their fluttering wings and they settled in for the night.

There were three ponds with giant water lilies in them, and in each pond stood roman-like statues.

Chuck pointed to the first one. "Aphrodite… Goddess of love and beauty."

Blair nodded and smiled as they studied the statue.

"She reminds me of Serena…" Chuck said softly. "All happiness and hair."

Blair frowned.

"Athena… Warrior goddess… I don't know who she reminds me of yet… Perhaps my mother. I'd like to think she was a warrior," he said softly, and Blair was quiet, studying his profile.

He'd never really truly opened up about his mother. Even when they were children.

His mother was a topic people knew little of. They all knew she had died, and that Chuck had been raised by his father… Blair had spied a picture of her once or twice in Chuck's room. That had been it.

"And of course… Hera," Chuck smiled at Blair. "Queen of the Gods."

Blair stared up at the statue and furrowed her brows.

"She…"

"When they asked me how she should look, I said she should be like you," he said plainly.

Blair gaped at him. "You had a statue made out of me? To resemble the meanest of the goddesses?"

He chuckled and took a seat on a stone bench that faced the statue.

"She wasn't mean. She did what she had to do. She was swift and powerful, and very protective of her husband who she loved despite all his imperfections," he continued.

And now she wasn't sure who they were talking about. So she sat next to him on the bench with the lovers carved on the sides.

"He cheated on her every chance he got," Blair smirked.

Chuck shrugged. "He was a fool."

He was quiet, studying the statue that stood a good six feet tall in a toga, with one breast exposed and a crown on her head. Her hair was long, waves cascading down her back. Her eyes were open, and she had a soft smile on her lips. Bow-shaped lips. She was staring right at them. At the bench.

It was eerie, she wasn't going to lie.

"Do you come here often?" She finally asked, trying to access the situation.

He glanced at her. "When I'm drunk. Yes."

They sat in silence for a while, her playing with Ruby's beans in her hand, Chuck staring out into his garden.

"Why did you do all this, Chuck?" She asked him quietly.

"All what?"

"All _this_, this house, his land, these people… I mean, the boy I remember didn't care about anyone but himself… He manipulated, lied, blackmailed –"

"I was a boy –"

He stood up and began to pace, and Blair watched him.

"Things are different –"

"How did they change? When did they change?"

"Some time ago –"

"Why wont you speak about things?" She demanded.

""Why won't you?" He snapped back.

"You haven't asked me anything!" She answered.

"Did you love that man? The man you were engaged to?" He demanded, and she met his eyes straight and true.

"I thought I did," she explained. "He was so… So different. The complete opposite of –"

"Nathaniel," Chuck spat bitterly.

She looked up at him. "… You."

She didn't know why she said that. Was she crazy? Chuck would use all he could against her! What was she thinking? She quickly stood up, intent of running back into the house, hiding under her silk covers and never coming out… Maybe until the wedding.

But he had grabbed her hand and was pulling her to him. And she was staring at him, and had she always drowned in his eyes? Because she couldn't quite remember a moment in her life that she hadn't wanted _this_ more. She was short of breath, and she felt the soft caress of his breath on her lips.

"Why didn't you want it to be me?" He asked her, voice low and controlled as his eyes, now turning onyx, bore into her.

She met his eyes and something inside of her exploded, like she had been hit by something.

"Because I can never tell what you're going to do next..."

And he didn't wait for her to finish, he went in to grab those ruby lips that had been tempting him for over a week. But before their mouths met in a soft happy sigh, her body relaxed completely and all the beans fell from her hand.

They jumped back, startled, as the beans pooled around their feet.

Hera, goddess of marriage, watched them – a soft smirk on her face.

Blair stared down at the pinto beans all around them. They looked at one another.

"Chuck Bass… You simply must do something about the fairy infestation you have going on in this garden," Blair said softly.

"Perhaps it's best this way," he treaded carefully. "We shouldn't forget why we're here."

Blair paused and slowly looked him over. "And why are we here?"

"We agreed – we agreed in New York that this was a business proposal," he said sternly. "I hope that magical voyages and stories of fairy princesses haven't clouded your vision."

He took a sharp breath that made her reel back at his harsh words, and suddenly she saw them. At seventeen.

_I don't want you anymore._

_Rode hard and put away wet_.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Don't misunderstand who I am Blair. I'm still very much that man – that man you so despised, that man that you tried very much to find the opposite to love," he hissed.

"Oh, you've made that clear, Charles Bass," she snapped.

He glared.

"What does that mean?" He argued.

"You – with your home in the mountains, away from civilization, a crowned prince in your own right only to cement this image you so enjoy of yourself deeper into your soul. But your soul continues to reject it, because that's not who you are anymore and perhaps the one that can't handle that here is you. And only you," she said without taking a breath, her chest was heaving and her hands were trembling, and she realized she had one bean left in her fingers. So she shoved it at him.

He grabbed it as she pressed it there, by his heart.

"You're so lost in your own illusions of this horrible man you think you are that you can't see you've become something better."

"Who's the illusionist now, eh, Blair?" He snapped, angry at her and perhaps even furious with the validity of her words.

"You – just you and your magic wand!" She pulled her hand back, leaving the bean in his palm.

"What upsets you more? The fact that I may not be this great man that fits with this fantasy world, or that you actually _liked_ the possibility of that man?" He cried.

"We can stand here all night and make this about me, but the fact still remains that I changed because I didn't have anything left. You changed out of your own volition," she told him. "And what kills you, what really kills you is not that I'm here, or that I'm marrying you for some low-class reason. No. That's not what kills you. What kills you is that bag you carry around your shoulders, and that's a bag full of regrets. You regret leaving New York, you regret not fighting it out, you regret your time in Japan, you regret your father, you regret _me,_ and because you weren't man enough to change that, you created _this_ and you live in it. Day after day –"

"Shut up!"

"Week after week, year after year –"

"I said shut up!"

"Just _hiding_ – unable to face what you left behind –"

"Blair –"

"While your best friend didn't have food to eat, while Serena worked in some corn field you own –"

"Stop it!"

"While you left _me_ without so much as a goodbye!"

She was crying. God dammit, she was crying. She was outright sobbing, and he was looking at her with pale, eerie hatred.

"I hate you," he said in a low and dangerous voice.

She looked at him with pity.

"You don't hate me, Bass. You hate yourself. You hate what you've become," she turned to go, but slipped on the beans. His arms quickly reached out to steady her, but she pushed him off, stalking into the house.

She didn't know how she made it, she couldn't even see in the darkness. But, somehow, she made it, asking some of the staff the way to her room as they looked at her with bewildered astonishment.

And once her door was closed behind her she let herself cry. Really cry. Because her heart, she felt, had broken.

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He did stand there, in the mists of fallen magical beans and a staring Hera, who now looked displeased with him also.

So… All that he liked to hear about himself she had confirmed.

He was a bad man. An angry man. A man who destroyed his stepmother because he had a wounded ego. A man who left the one woman he thought he loved behind and drunk himself stupid when he received news she had gone back to Nate. A man who knew of the economic collapse and knew his old friends must not be faring so very well, but continued hiding out in his castle.

He had told himself day in and day out he was a bad man. He was neither Prince nor Duke. A profit-seeking man, a monopolist. Soulless merchant of the night. He liked all these titles; he'd engraved them on his skin.

But the moment those accusations came from _her_ lips, they had burned a hole in him so very deep and painful that he felt he would never again deserve sunlight. He would never deserve her.

He looked down at his hand.

The last magic bean. Her hopes, the hopes of a girl who wished that somehow she would be saved; that she would be loved.

Why wasn't it Nate who saved her? Where was her knight in shinning armor?

Things between them were so very clouded and convoluted that he couldn't go through with it. Go through with the marriage. Not like this.

He looked up at the house and saw her light still on. With steady feet he made his way towards the house, throwing one last look over at Hera, who seemed to nod in approval.

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She wiped her face free of makeup and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy, and she knew they would still be like that in the morning light. Clara would be able to see that Miss Blair had cried herself a bucket of tears.

She cursed and started brushing her hair, letting the dark curls bounce behind her.

27… 54…85….

KNOCK

She froze, because the knock didn't come from the door to her room, but from the connecting door. Her stomach felt heavy and ominous. She slowly stood, wrapping herself in the sheer robe Chuck had gotten her. The same Chuck that now beckoned her.

She stood before the door and placed her small hand over the mahogany fortress that protected her from the invader.

"Yes?" She asked.

Chuck, on his side, was leaning his forehead against the wood, his own hand pressed against the door.

A mirror of hers.

"Peace treaty," he requested.

She took a sharp breath, pressing her forehead against the door, and took a moment to simply breathe. She didn't know how many more confrontations with him her emotions could handle on this very night.

"For a minute," she acceded.

And slowly, she pulled back and turned the knob. She opened it and lifted her head to look at him. His jacket and tie were gone. He stood in his loose white shirt and black pants. He looked like a gothic hero.

His eyes slowly found hers.

Obsidian. That was the color they were now. Carved from lava, after a volcano erupted, leaving behind coal-colored chunks. The debris and the aftermath.

So here they were. Two old childhood lovers, now adults, and now more lost than ever.

She swallowed.

He nodded and slowly entered her suite.

She slowly sat on the bed; the springs in the mattress became the only noise in the room as he paced slowly back and forth with his hands stuck in his pockets. His hair was in disarray, like he had shoved his hands in it over and over before daring to knock on her door.

"You've asked me several times about Japan," he began. "And I've avoided it."

She nodded, unsure as to where he was going.

"I lived there… For two years." He explained. "Mostly gambled, drank, had as many women as I could find… Until I met Martin."

She blinked at him, her hands clasped on her lap.

"Martin… Was my wife's half brother," he treaded carefully. "But I didn't meet her until much later." He took a seat on her vanity chair and stared at the floor. "Martin was very much like me… Just older. He had partied, gambled, womanized… Drunk more than his liver wanted to take. And we talked. We talked about all sorts of stupid things. Told him more than one ought to tell to a man."

Blair watched him, watched him half hidden in shadows.

"And then… I don't remember… That's how drunk and high I was… It was after Dad died and after I won my own personal battle with Lily… And I just… I wanted to forget." He swallowed. "Then one day, I opened my eyes and there she was. Her name was Ayaka, and she was… So different. The complete opposite of you…"

She stared at him, not knowing what to think or say.

"… She was sweet and loving and so pure…" he smiled slightly. "So I married her… We knew each other less than two days, and there we were, married… Spent a week. A week with my new bride… Forgetting everything."

He was silent for a while.

"And then the bombings came," she urged him.

"You know, if you would've asked me then if I loved her, I would've said yes," he said softly. "So we lived in his expensive apartment in the heart of Tokyo, I gave her everything her heart desired, and the moment I left her… I left her and met Martin for drinks… It happened."

Blair looked away because she could see it. Chuck thinking he finally found happiness, meeting a friend, a _brother_ for drinks, and then it all drastically being taken away from him.

"She didn't have a chance," he whispered. "She didn't."

He swallowed and played with the watch on his wrist.

"Martin and I tried… Tried to get back in the building, but we couldn't. I almost died in that building… A beam was falling…" he gulped. "Martin saw it, and he… He pushed me away."

Images flashed behind his lids.

"_No, Martin!"_

_Debris, dust and blood._

_A hand, a hand under it all… He held on to the hand_…

"I tried to pull him out… But he was barely breathing…"

"_My sister and I will see you in paradise, Charles. Find happiness, friend… Or it'll haunt you until your dying day_."

"_You're going to be fine; I'm getting you out of here!"_

_Young fool._

"_You should tell her, you know. Your kryptonite. You should find her and tell her."_

"And he was gone," Chuck blinked.

"_Sir! Sir, you must leave!" And he found his savior. A thin, hay-haired man pulling him out of the building. "The building is collapsing, you must come!"_

"_I'm staying!"_

"_Don't you have anything worth living for?" The man demanded._

_A flash of brown curls and red ribbons flew by his inner eye. Another pair of soft trusting blue eyes with a golden smile…_

_And he had let the man pull him out of the building. _

"_Call this number," he had told him. "Tell them I'm alive and require transportation."_

"_Who are you?" The man had asked him._

"_I'm Chuck Bass," he replied._

_The name meant nothing to the man._

"_Do you rescue people for a living?"_

"_I-I'm an accountant, sir," he had replied. "But currently unemployed."_

"_What's your name?" Chuck asked him._

"_J-jacob, sir," Jacob had replied. "Jacob Huntley from Arizona."_

"_Well, Jacob Huntley from Arizona – you're no longer unemployed."_

Blair listened to his retelling in silence until he seemed to be out of words.

"Now Jacob makes sense," she whispered.

"Yeah, Jacob only makes sense when I say it like that," Chuck took a deep breath. "So I came here… It started getting populated, and I busied myself with everything and anything I could and continued making excuses to not return to New York."

Blair nodded. She supposed both of them knew a little bit of hell during their time apart.

"And I was fine with it… Until I come home, and a certain girl I knew came to write a story about me," he finished, and Blair's eyes went wide.

"You knew about the story?"

He nodded, and her heart thumped.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She demanded.

"Why didn't you?" He countered.

"I… I didn't know where to begin," she confessed, not meeting his eyes. "I couldn't face you after everything."

"Well… We both have our noble causes," he said dryly.

Blair smiled. "Yes, we're noble at heart."

"That's what matters," he nodded.

He took a breath and stood.

"Thank you… For letting me know some of it," she said, staring up at him.

He nodded and bit his lip. "Do you still ride?"

She blinked, confused. "Like horses?"

He tilted his head.

"Y-yes… You know I'm an equestrian."

"Blue ribbon," he smirked.

"I haven't ridden in years… since ninth grade," Blair confessed.

"It's like riding a bike. You don't forget," he assured.

"You mean now?" She asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Sunrise. Don't be late," he smirked and slowly walked to her. His hand reached out and softly touched the curls that were situated right on her left shoulder. The ghost of a contact nearly made her shiver.

"Let the charade begin," he whispered, and she watched as he pulled away and back down the hallway. The thick mahogany closed behind him.

The question was: where did the charade begin? Where did it end?

----------

To be continued


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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_He seems to be a god, that man  
__Facing you, who leans to be close,  
__Smiles, and, alert and glad, listens  
__To your mellow voice_

_And quickens in love at your laughter  
__That stings my breasts, jolts my heart  
__If I dare the shock of a glance.  
__I cannot speak_

_Sappho_

It's not that she disliked horses or anything like that – she hadn't been thrown off an animal like Hazel had, or sold one for coke like Ms. Sparks. She just had other things to do. Be Queen B, for starters. That had occupied nearly all of her time. Hence, she hadn't been interested in riding anymore. Her pure-bred Diana (yes, like the Princess), had long ago been sold when her father realized her interest lay elsewhere.

Yet thinking of all of the land out there and the beautiful mountains made an exited quiver run through her stomach. So she woke early, like she promised Chuck she would, and got ready for a morning ride.

When she got out of the bath, she found Dorota and her mother in her room.

"Doctor coming in afternoon to see your mamma," Dorota told her, and Blair nodded, walking towards her mother.

"Mom?" She asked her, kneeling before Eleanor, who was dressed impeccably in vintage Armani green slacks and a soft ivory cashmere sweater. Eleanor turned and stared at her.

"Blair!" Eleanor smiled at her.

Blair sighed in relief. "Do you like it here?"

"It's a bit chilly," Eleanor informed her, pointing to the goosebumps on her hand.

"We'll get you a shawl," Blair stated and turned to find Dorota already coming over with one, wrapping it over Eleanor's slight frame.

"Oh… Burberry…" Eleanor commented, touching the patterned cloth.

Blair smiled. "The doctor's going to come see you. If I'm not back by then, you'll be good, right?"

Eleanor stared at her and rolled her eyes. "I'm not a child, Blair."

Blair stood up and stared down at her. "Fine."

"I'd like a window," Eleanor suggested purposely.

"Dorota, there's sitting room off the dining area – take her there. Chuck says there's a view of the village," Blair informed her, and Dorota nodded, taking Eleanor with her.

"Be careful, Miss Blair," Dorota said over her shoulder, but was interrupted by an eager Ruby carrying some clothes with her.

"Good morning Miss Blair." She gave her a small curtsey, and Blair smiled.

"You don't have to bow. I'm not royalty," Blair told her, pointing to the bed for her to deposit the clothing.

"These were left for you." Ruby watched Blair as Blair admired the riding breeches, knee-high boots, fitted black jacket, gloves, and matching hat.

"You'll look wonderful on Hera," Ruby continued, still smiling.

"Who's Hera?" Blair asked her.

"The mare Lord Bass has picked for you, she's so very pretty. Lord Bass says I can ride her when I'm older." Ruby watched as Blair changed into her new clothing, helping her with the zippers and buttons.

"Don't you go to school?" Blair asked her.

"Oh, yes!" Ruby nodded. "All the kids go to school – we attend Constance in the village four times a week. I'm fluent in French, and Lord Bass has been teaching me some Japanese, but I think they're just curse words."

Blair laughed, taking the gloves and hat from Ruby.

"How do I look?" She asked her.

"Like a Barbie!" Ruby beamed at her.

"Good enough." Blair patted her head and headed out the door with Ruby following her every step and never stopping to take a breath as she chatted about anything and everything.

When they finally made it out, Jacob was there, holding the door for them.

"Good morning, Miss Waldorf." Jacob nodded, and Blair stopped to stare at him.

"I think I should properly thank you," she said, and Jacob looked taken aback.

Blair swallowed, feeling she should explain. "For Japan and for Chuck. For what you did. It was very decent of you."

Jacob looked pale and opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it, thinking better of it.

"If there's anything Ma'am needs, I do hope she doesn't hesitate to ask?" He arched a brow at her, and she nodded, smiling.

"Keep an eye out for my mother and Dorota, please – do have someone get me if it's something serious, and I'm not back," she insisted, and he nodded, showing her out into the stables.

As Blair descended the steps, a coal-black Arabian came trotting out of the stables with none other than Chuck Bass perched high on top of it. His hair was tossing in the wind and he wore a simple form-fitting polo shirt with riding pants and knee-high boots.

Though Chuck had also been in their little horse-riding group when they were younger, and his father had owned the most impressive collection of pure-breeds, he was never one to really love riding the horses. He was more a fan of pursuing the female jockeys that rode them.

But he did always know what he was doing, and if she was going to be honest with herself, she thought he looked stunningly handsome perched like he was.

Ruby let out a dreamy sigh. "Isn't he handsome?"

Blair bit back a smile as she slid on her hat and gloves.

"Good morning, Miss Waldorf," Chuck greeted her, smirking down at the girls. "And Miss Laurent, you are looking prettier every day."

Blair watched the young girl flush a furious pink color as she hid behind Blair.

"Stop it, Chuck," Blair chided.

Out of the stables came a short man with a grandfather beard and a thick argyle sweater, and behind him trailed a stunning Palomino mare with a silky coat and a white diamond patch on her nose. Her eyes were light caramel as she blinked at Blair.

"Oh, she's beautiful!" Blair said, adjusting her gloves a she walked to her. "I heard her name is Hera."

She threw Chuck a glance which he avoided, pretending to pet his own animal.

The man holding Hera smiled at her.

"So you're the pretty bride, eh?" The man asked in a slight Scottish accent.

Blair gave him a tight smile. "Blair Waldorf."

"Connor Grant at your service, Ma'am." Mr. Grant tipped his hat. Ruby peeked behind Blair's form and smiled at him. "I see Miss Ruby has taken a liking to you."

"Yes, she has." Blair nodded and then leaned in. "Oh, and thank you for the magic beans. They were most helpful last night."

Mr. Grant let out a loud belly laugh. "Can never be too careful."

Before Mr. Grant could give her a lift, a horse rode past her so fast that it upset Hera. Blair quickly pushed Ruby away from Hera's startled hooves, and Chuck jumped down from his own horse.

Blair was out of a breath when she looked to find Clara happily mounted on top of her horse, looking innocently down at her. Blair's mouth dropped opened, but she turned to Ruby, who looked pale and scared and certain that she didn't want to be on a horse any more.

Mr. Grant tried to control Hera, but the horse was not having it, and Blair felt Chuck's arms around her as he pulled her and Ruby out of the way.

"Are you alright?" Chuck asked, startled himself, as he studied Blair and Ruby.

"I-I'm fine. Ruby?" Blair was looking at the little girl.

"I'm ok." But her voice was small and pale compared to the usually warmth it carried.

Chuck looked up at Clara. "What are you doing?"

"Apologies, Sir." Clara was all wide-eyed innocence. "I didn't mean to startle the mare."

Chuck turned to Blair, who was holding Ruby to her, her own heart still beating furiously.

"Maybe you should stay," Chuck said.

Blair considered it for a moment, almost afraid of getting on Hera, despite the fact that Mr. Grant seemed to have a handle on her now. But Clara's ears perked up, making Blair's eyes narrow.

"I could ride with you, sir – if you like," Clara offered. Chuck's eyes were still on Blair, whose lips were now set.

"No need," Blair replied. "I will be fine. Ruby, go see Dorota and ask her to tell you a story."

Ruby slowly nodded, her pigtails moving with her. "Yes, Miss. Blair."

Jacob quickly scurried forward and took the child's hand. "I'll take you to Miss Dorota, Ruby."

Blair took a sharp breath and turned to Chuck, a smile plastered on her face. "Shall we?"

Chuck looked over her, still unsure as to what to think. A moment a go she had looked frazzled, completely taken by surprise. Now she looked determined. It was downright confusing… And sexy.

Chuck offered his hand. "M'lady."

She smiled indulgently at him as he walked her to the horse and helped her up a now tranquil Hera. The moment she was up, she felt at ease. The animal calmed under her slight weight, and she relaxed her legs against her.

"Ready?" Chuck asked, looking up at her, his hand resting on her thigh. She felt every inch of his hand as it made her skin prickle and rise to meet him under her thin pants.

She nodded.

"Clara, Mr. Bass and I will be fine on our own. No need for an escort, Blair smirked at the girl, who provided a new definition of 'if looks could kill you, I would beat you with my horse'.

"Mr. Bass and I _always_ ride together to oversee the village in the mornings," she snapped back, but Chuck had already mounted his black Arabian and nodded at Blair.

"No need, Clara – I'll have plenty of companionship today."

Blair met his eyes, and a dark shiver went through him as she did the unexpected: she pressed her knees firmly against the mare.

"C'mon, girl!" And the mare was off, in such speed that her hat flew off and all her curls cascaded behind her.

Chuck's heart sped up – he did love a good chase. His lips smirked and his eyes narrowed, and he was after her in a heartbeat.

Clara was left all saddled and staring after them.

Blair hadn't felt this liberated in such a long time. She felt like singing and dancing and throwing her hands to the wind. She looked behind her and, sure enough, Chuck was chasing after her with a smirk on his face.

She felt a thrill of exhilaration and urged Hera to go faster.

"Faster, girl!"

Her body easily remembered the feel of a running horse under her as they galloped through the grassy area with mountains surrounding them and the warmth of the sun appearing in the horizon.

And before she knew it, he had sped past her, his hair as wild as her own. He looked over his shoulder, smirking.

She gasped, a smile plastered on her face, and urged Hera along – intent on beating him at whatever game it was they were playing.

He hadn't felt so very alive in such a long time. Usually his morning rides consisted of Clara's droning voice updating him on all aspects of the village. This time, it felt like an adventure. Just Blair and him, riding around, no agenda – just seeing where the day would take them.

She was just as good as he remembered, perched high on the pony her father had gotten her for her birthday. She always wore her hair back, pulled in by a red bow. He remembered.

Now she was a woman, still all fire underneath her cool exterior – hot enough to burn Chuck Bass. Hot enough to melt him.

And he _loved_ the chase – when he saw her hair flash in the wind as she threw a flirtatious smile over her thin shoulder, he was a goner. He _needed_ to play. His entire being begged him to play with her, because she was intoxicating.

So he chased her down, flew past her, and challenged her. And if he remembered anything about Blair Waldorf, it was that she never backed down from a challenge. And suddenly he felt seventeen again.

--------

The village of Wallace Hills was a peaceful place, reserved for those who had been saved by a man people knew very little about as he seldom let them see the real man behind the façade.

Yet they all looked forward to his morning rides. It was a chance for them to tell him what was going on or simply to make a generic conversation. So when the two horses came into view with a playful 'Lord Bass' and his new bride-to-be, it became the talk of the town.

The villagers watched as they played with one another, casting glances back and forth. He would get ahead of her, and she would purposely speed past him. He would lose sight of her only to find her hiding behind a home, chatting with a villager, and the game would be up because they couldn't chase one another in the presence of mere mortals.

"Who lives here?" She asked, galloping past him.

"Jonas," he replied, urging his horse to catch up with her.

"So far away from the village?" She asked, staring at the small cottage.

"He's our warning system," he explained. "Ex Navy seal."

And sure enough, Jonas himself walked out of a small side garden. He was a tall – broad shouldered man. Chuck's warning system.

"Mr. Bass," the man nodded and greeted.

"Jonas, morning," Chuck's horse came to a stop with Blair next to him.

Jonas studied Blair, and his eyes questioned Chuck.

"Miss Blair Waldorf," Chuck introduced them, and Blair nodded, trying to tuck her wild curls behind her ear.

"Ahhh, you're the one no one can stop chatting about?" He smirked at her.

Blair nodded, smiling herself.

"Jonas has a good view of the ocean, come see," Chuck said.

"The ocean?" Blair asked, confused.

Chuck nodded and dismounted his horse, walking it behind the cottage. Blair followed his lead and walked Hera behind her.

"Leave 'em here," Jonas urged them as he took the reins, and Chuck nodded gratefully. He continued his trek with Blair in tow over a small hill located behind the Jonas home.

There was nothing out here, Blair noted. She wasn't distracted, of course – not by how well Chuck fit into his riding pants. She wasn't.

Once they stood over the hill, Blair's breath stopped. What a view!

"You'll get a better view from behind the ruins," Chuck assured her as she stared, mystified, over the peek of water seen from between two great mountains. The sun was fully out, but the chill facing the water cooled her from the heat she'd felt riding around.

"We really are away from everything, aren't we?" She asked softly.

He turned to look at her, her hair was disheveled and her cheeks were pink from exercise.

"Yes we are." He nodded and cleared his throat. "C'mon."

She nodded, following him down the hill and back to the cottage. Jonas was studying Hera's hoof when they walked to him.

"You've got a lame mare here, Miss Blair," he told her, setting the horse's leg down and watching Hera limp.

"Oh!" Blair looked concerned then looked for the house, which was too far away to see. There was no way she could walk.

Chuck sighed. "Walk her to the house, Jonas – I'll take Miss Blair," Chuck instructed, and Jonas nodded. Chuck swiftly mounted his horse as Jonas began walking Hera back.

Blair watched as Hera was taken away from her with a slight frown on her face. When Blair looked back at Chuck, he was a bit away, looking on over some other homes.

"What are you doing?" She asked him.

"Have you ever been pulled to a horse?" He asked her, a small devious smile on his lips.

She smiled, shaking her head. "No. Where was I going to be swept off my feet? In Connecticut?"

He let out a laugh. "Fair enough."

And then he kicked his horse and the animal jumped up and started a full gallop ahead.

"What are you doing?" She cried.

"C'mon!" He cried back, leaning over his animal as she looked on with wide eyes.

"No!"She ran away from his impending form. She heard him laugh behind her. "Stop it, Chuck."

"If you continue running away, I'm just going to have to grab you," he teased, and she squealed when he came near her once more, running. She turned suddenly, and he was nearly on her. Before she knew it, he had grabbed her arm and pulled her up swiftly onto the horse. She slid in behind him in a huff, grabbing on to his waist as she yelped.

"Chuck!" She cried.

She saw him smiling as he tossed a look over his shoulder at her and placed his own hand firmly over hers. That's when she relaxed into him as they rode towards the house.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" He asked, still smirking as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade.

"I suppose it was kinda heroic," she murmured.

The villagers now watched as Mr. Bass pass through the village in his horse with a Miss Waldorf riding closely behind him.

"The wedding is happening soon, I take it?" They asked each other.

"It better."

----------

They galloped to the house, and Blair watched the people milling around, doing their everyday activities as they looked on atop of the horse.

"It's so lovely here… I can see why you never wanted to leave," she whispered quietly, and he didn't say a word. Not one. She did study his profile. At moments, she thought she saw him. Small and vulnerable, still a boy, still longing for affection. At others… He was lost even to himself. It wasn't that _she_ wanted to rescue him back. It was just that she noticed.

He led the horse around the house and towards the castle that protected the house as she held onto him.

The castle stood high, almost twice as high as the house, and three times wider. It completely covered the house, and she realized it was just not coincidence. The place must've been at least seven thousand years old. It was stunning and breathtaking.

"It was originally built to protect against the Vikings," he said as he stopped the horse upon reaching the ruins. He threw his leg over the saddle and dismounted the horse, then turned to look up at her. She held out her arms, and he grabbed her waist, helping her down. They reached an awkward moment as they stood entirely too close to one another, his hands on her small waist, her hands on his shoulders. Their faces together. The ruins of a castle around them.

She felt short of breath and, this time, there were no magic beans, no fairies to blame it on. The wind whipped around them as he stared at her with those intense brown eyes of his.

"Chuck…" she whispered. She had no idea when she had become so very attracted to this man she was agreeing to marry.

He seemed to blink and quickly dropped his hands from her waist, turning sharply. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she watched his retreating figure. Her heart was beating furiously and her legs felt shaky. Good thing she had no heels on.

She followed him through the ruins, taking in the magical splendor of the stone around them. He continued through the crumbled building until he reached the edge, and that was when Blair realized they were at a cliff.

She gasped, looking out into the angry, intense sea.

He turned to her and studied her expression as she gasped, entranced by the sight. He remembered the very first time he saw it – he had been speechless, and that was when he realized this is where he wanted to be. The perfect place for forgetting.

"What is this place?" She asked softly.

"I don't know…" he replied, placing his hands on his waist. "But it's beautiful."

She nodded in agreement.

"So…" he began. And she raised a brow. "I was thinking of Sunday."

"Sunday? For what?" She asked, confused.

"The wedding," he explained.

"Oh," she responded, eyes wide. "Four days."

He nodded slightly. "It doesn't have to be anything big," he assured her.

"Oh," she continued.

"And you have the dress… And we have take advantage of my priest… Who is also the doctor," he rambled as she stared at him.

This was so business-like, she hated it.

"O-ok." she answered, and he nodded, turning on his heel and walking back to the house with purpose. She stared after him, blinking and not knowing exactly what to think.

-------

When she got back to the house, she found Dorota and her mother in the room where she'd left them. Dorota looked concerned as a man finished, putting away things in an old-fashioned black bag. The man turned to her and smiled.

"Miss Waldorf, I presume?" He greeted.

"Yes. How is she?" Blair went straight to business, observing as her mother continued drawing on her pad, endless designs.

He took a breath. "May I speak with you privately?"

Blair's stomach dropped as she nodded, and she led him to a corner of the room, away from her mother's ears.

"Miss. Waldorf… Your mother suffered from a slight stroke…" Blair felt numb. "… It was minor, yes but it caused the disorientation and the memory loss."

Blair took a sharp breath and willed tears not to come to her eyes as she pressed her hand to her mouth. Her mother…

"I think it must've happened recently. I don't have the proper equipment here to properly analyze the situation but… From what I can tell, she is most likely suffering from vascular dementia… Caused by this stroke."

Blair sat down, staring ahead as the doctor looked concerned at her.

"Is there anything we can do?" She whispered.

He shook his head slowly. "Not with what we have… And once it happens, you can't reverse the effects. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

Blair looked at her mother, drawing happily on her pad, pausing at times, confused.

A stroke. Her mother had a stroke, and she was completely losing it.

"T-thank you for coming," she managed to tell him.

"I'm sorry I can't do more. Lately I've mostly been helping with broken bones and childbirths…" he continued.

"I don't need you for the childbirth," she snapped, and he looked at her in confusion. She nodded and stood to walk to her mother. She sat next to her and watched her draw.

"Mom?" She asked Eleanor, who stopped, pulling her glasses from her nose.

"Yes?" Eleanor asked her, looking at her like she was a stranger.

"What are you doing, Mom?" She asked softly.

Eleanor sighed, as if she was annoyed at one of her interns. "For Christsakes, Dorota – I'm working on my designs for Bergdorf."

Blair blinked as Eleanor turned back to continue scribbling. She gulped and closed her eyes. Her mother was slowly leaving her, and she would be the last of the Waldorfs.

"Miss Blair…" Dorota came to her, concern and unshed tears evident in her eyes.

Blair quickly stood and walked out of the room, determination on her face.

"Where's Mr. Bass?" She demanded of the first maid she found.

"I-in his room," she stuttered.

Blair thanked her and headed to her room, making long strides with her short legs. She passed Clara who was walking down the hall, and the woman fixed her with an icy glare.

Blair walked right up to her.

"The stunt you pulled this morning? You will never do it again." She deadpanned, and Clara's eyes narrowed.

"You have no right talking to me this way," she snapped.

Blair arched a brow. "Clara…" she said loudly. "Do begin the preparations for Sunday."

"Sunday?" Clara asked, annoyed.

"Oh, didn't you hear? The wedding will be Sunday. I expect everything to be just perfect, and all preparations go through me." Blair smiled sweetly at her.

Clara's eyes widened as Blair walked swiftly past her. Blair entered her room, a sense of satisfaction covering up the fact that her heart was breaking. It was a welcome change. She walked to their connecting door and yanked it opened.

She walked down the small hall and knocked at his door.

"Blair?" He asked from the other end, confused.

"Yes, open up," she requested.

He slowly opened the door to reveal that he was missing his polo shirt and was now only in riding pants and boots. She gulped because he was a far cry from the boy she had known. Chuck was never one to be chunky, but he had never been sculpted like Nate had been. He had a normal body, lean and well shaped. But this Chuck before her was a man. He still had the chest hair he was always proud of, but he sported a well-defined hip bone and a flat stomach with a slightly sculpted chest.

She was not turned on.

She was not.

Shit. She was.

"I-I just wanted to let you know," she stuttered, almost angry. "Sunday is perfect. We should begin preparations today."

He studied her.

"Sunday it is," he nodded, leaning back and staring at her.

"Good," she snapped and strode down her own hallway, slamming the door behind her.

_Shit._ She hissed inside of her head.

Her mother was sick, and she was lusting after her almost-husband.

She had not counted on the preparations taking over her life. But they did. The moment a date was set, the house became a flurry of activity. Blair was bombarded with everything from the food that Pierre was preparing to the flowers they could get this time of year.

Before she knew it, the day had passed and she was left exhausted on the bed and back to thinking about the fact that she had an ailing mother. The wedding was a welcome distraction, and that's why she had urged it. She needed to not think about the fact that she was losing her mother. Or had lost her already.

She slept restlessly that night. She didn't know why. She woke later than usual. In New York, she had been used to waking around 6 am and helping Dorota out. This was a change of pace. A definite change of pace.

Her comforter felt strange around her. She blinked, sat up and gasped, a scream erupted from her throat. Because her beautiful Badgley Mischka vintage gown that Chuck had bought her was cut up in chunks and sprinkled all over the bed.

------

To be continued


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_You with the dark burly hair and the breathtaking eyes,  
__your inquiring glance that leaves me undone.  
__Eyes that pierce and then withdraw like a blood-stained sword,  
__eyes with dagger lashes!  
__Zealots, you are mistaken - this is heaven."  
__Zebunisso_

It took him four hours to finally find sleep. It took him a second to wake up.

He sat up startled, looking around wildly – trying to decipher where the scream was coming from. When he realized it was from Blair's room, he felt his entire stomach drop from under him and his palms get instantly sweaty. He bolted from the bed, struggling and cursing loudly as he got tangled in the sheets, tripping over them and falling on his face before scrambling up.

He yanked his door opened and strode to her end, finding it locked. He cried out and pushed at it with his shoulder until he thought he was dislocating it.

"Blair?" He yelled, slamming his fist repeatedly against the wood. "Blair, open the door!"

He heard her on the other side, scrambling out of her bed, yanking the door open. Before he knew it, or was able to register anything, the small brunette attacked him as she held onto him.

His arms went quickly around her, pulling her to him.

"It's ok," he whispered to her. He figured she had a horrible dream, so he wasn't going to complain about thinking she had been nearly killed because she smelled like she always smelled growing up, and that was a good thing. She must've found the perfume he left for her.

That's when he looked over her bed.

His heart froze.

Her lovely blue silk sheets were covered with… His eyes narrowed as he pulled Blair back to stare at her.

She even had chunks on her! His blood boiled.

Blair looked pale and obviously scared out of her mind, he quickly took the chunks off her as she stared wide-eyed at him.

"Chuck…" She licked her lips. "Did you sleep with Clara – have you ever?"

Was she out of her mind? He looked at her with a confused expression.

"What?" He blinked at her.

"Clara – the housekeeper here, did you sleep with her?" She demanded, no longer frightened but downright mad.

Chuck stared at her. She was clearly out of her mind!

"Who? Clara? The maid?" He blustered.

She stared at him. His face was full of confusion, worry, and apparently disgust with her most recent accusation. This brought her a soft relief she wasn't expecting.

"I'll take that as a no." She walked away from him, pacing in her room. She looked tiny in her long white gown, the brown curls around her face in complete disarray, but she'd never looked more beautiful to him.

Shit. This was bad. He was falling like a giant stone to the bottom of the ocean. The Blair Ocean. Her dress… He went to her bed and picked up the chunks. It ranged from being ripped with formidable anger to being chopped up with scissors.

"She did this – she did it!" She cried hysterically.

Chuck looked at her. "Clara? You think Clara did this?"

She was still shaking, but now he wasn't sure if it was in anger or fright.

"Blair –"

"No!" She cried, stomping her small foot. "She's a crazy psycho bitch who nearly killed me and Ruby with the damn horse, basically told me I was nothing, _lived_ in my room while you were away, and now has cut up my Badgley Mischka because she has some weird fascination with you!"

Chuck blinked at her because he swore he had just witnessed a Waldorf meltdown. He didn't know if he felt scared or honored.

"Ok, Blair," Chuck said gently, because he was pretty sure she was five seconds from exploding once more. Perhaps all over him. "Listen to me… Clara's a child. I found her when she was fifteen and brought her here – she's been here ever since."

"Chuck, she's most certainly _not_ fifteen!" Blair spat.

"That was a couple of years ago, yes," he nodded.

"And she's seen you all this time as this Prince Charming that has rescued her and brought her to this fairytale place were you will one day, after being close and connecting, fall madly in love with her!"

And then she stopped because just then – right at that moment – she didn't know if she was Clara, if Clara was her – who the hell she was talking about. The lace all over her was obviously making her as crazy and delusional as Clara. She took a sharp breath and held her hands to her mouth.

Oh, my God!

_She_ was hoping Chuck would fall in love _her_. With her, Blair Waldorf. She didn't want this ridiculous wedding, this fake marriage – she wanting something real, she wanted him to look her at her with the pure adoration he had back in high school. She was _desperate_ for it. She'd wanted it for years and years, and she had completely fallen apart without it!

She couldn't breathe. She just couldn't. She needed to faint. She could use with a good fainting spell. Perhaps she would land in his arms, and he would sweep her up and carry her, deposit her in bed and kiss her and touch her –

OHHHHH NOOOO!!

Her brain was exploding and giving her a severe headache! She just missed having a man, that was all – and Chuck had suddenly turned into this perfect man that she couldn't have imagined him more perfectly perfect with all of his imperfections!

Chuck saw her panic and utter breakdown coming on, and he quickly went to her and grab bed her upper arms. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so very sudden because she nearly jumped out of her skin, staring at him with those wide brown eyes that had this odd effect on his stomach.

_Kryptonite_.

Mother fuck –

Even from the grave Martin teased him.

"Ok, listen," he whispered. "I will talk to her. I will."

He assured her and, with her eyes still wide, she nodded.

And then he did something that he hadn't planned on. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. Softly.

The spot… The very spot were his lips had brushed against her skin exploded into her entire body, running fast until it reached the tips of her toes.

Oh… She was _so_ sexually deprived.

It _had_ been almost three years since she'd had any.

All this mess and economic crisis had really kept her occupied. And she was incredibly horny, and he looked incredibly good, and suddenly all Blair could think of was their wedding night. She needed it _now_.

Her inner eye had visions of him throwing her against a wall and pulling her up, entering her as his tongue raked its way up and down her neck with his hands firmly cupping her ass… Oh, shit. She was becoming a mess. A complete and total, uncontrollable mess.

"O-ok." Was her only response as he smiled tightly and walked out of the room.

She stared at his retreating back and had to physically hold her tongue from crying out that he take her then and there.

How many more days until Sunday? Shit! Apparently dress-cut warnings turn her on.

No… What turned her on was how he pounded on the door, held her, and then believed her.

---------

He paced the small library, hands in his pockets and hair disheveled.

"Sir… Perhaps tea would be better," Jacob suggested. Chuck bristled.

"I hate tea," he snapped.

"Yes… I just thought –"

"I mean what kind of sick thing is this?" Chuck interrupted.

Jacob swallowed, nodding. The entire mess that had started as a relatively simple arranged marriage was turning into a zoo. He had seen them from the window as they rode in together the previous day. If he knew nothing – which was crap because he knew everything – he would've thought they were a young couple in love with one another.

Of course, since he knew plenty, he could conclude that his theories were correct.

They _were_ a young couple in love.

That was the problem. Both were too stubborn to admit it and would dance around the subject and their feelings until it killed them both. He shook his head, and Chuck noticed.

"You have something to say to me, Jacob?" Chuck snapped.

"N-no, sir," Jacob replied, his hands clasped at his waist.

Chuck glowered at him, and Jacob sunk in his chair. Intent on dying.

That's when the door opened to reveal a fresh-off-a-horse Clara. Her boots were slightly muddy, her hair was in disarray, and she had a large stain on her white button down shirt. She was the furthest from class that he'd seen in a while.

"Good morning, sir – you wanted to see me?" She asked innocently.

Chuck was ready to rip her a new one, but when he saw her he remembered the young teen that he had found in Chicago some years ago… Dressed in filthy jeans and an even filthier shirt, crying by the wheel of his limo. He'd seen her as a kid then and he saw her as a kid now.

"Clara… Have a seat." He gestured to one of the upholstered chairs in his study.

Chuck Bass never really wanted a study. A study was more of his father's thing. Granted, he _had_ broken into his father's study a few times and brought random girls in there. His way of saying 'screw _you,_ Dad, for work being more important than me!'

He had been a child then. He was a man now. A man who was getting married in a couple of days.

He cleared his throat.

"I have to ask you something," he began, and Clara eyed Jacob coolly. Jacob snapped a look back at her, causing her to quickly back down. Chuck took a breath and considered his words.

"Clara… I don't think it's wise for you to continue working in the house anymore," he said as bluntly as he could.

Clara's pale-blue eyes were wide and frightened. "Was it something I did?" She asked quietly.

"Yes… No – I don't know. At this point, I don't care," he answered honestly, his hands still in his pockets. "But there's too much going around for me to deal with petty jealousy."

Clara reeled back at his tone, and Jacob had to hide a smile.

"So, as you know, Miss Waldorf will be mistress of his house – _is_ mistress of this house, and my one goal in life is to make sure she's happy. Nothing else matters," he continued, and Jacob turned to stare at him because there was an underlying tone of sincerity in his voice. "In closing, I will move you to the stables where you will work with Mr. Carter."

Clara stood up. "I haven't done anything!"

Chuck eyed her coolly, never blinking. She instantly sat back down, because she had never seen him this angry.

"Any other questions?" He asked quietly.

Clara's eyes filled with tears. "Do you love her?" She responded.

Jacob's mouth dropped opened, and he looked at Chuck, who simply stared at her.

"Miss Parker – you're dismissed," Jacob stated, and she sent him a hateful glare before storming off, leaving her dirty footprints on the floor. Jacob stared at them and then turned to Chuck. "Do you _really_ believe she's responsible for the dress?"

Chuck leaned back on his chair and crossed his hands under his chin.

"Perhaps… Perhaps not."

"If you have any doubt, why are you keeping her?" Jacob demanded.

"Because…" Chuck replied. "What would you have me do? Throw her out? The world is ugly right now, and people are looking for safe harbor. She knows where we are, she knows entirely too much. There's nothing like a scorned woman, Jacob. She would retaliate. She could destroy this – this entire way of living. Too many people depend on this village, and I have to protect them."

"What of Miss Waldorf?" Jacob asked.

"She's not angry at Blair… She's angry at me." Chuck explained.

"I still don't feel she is safe with Clara around," Jacob concluded.

"After the wedding… Change my room, and have her mother and Dorota move into mine. Remove the doors," he commanded.

Jacob studied him. "Sir… Wouldn't it be better to simply be in the same room with her?"

Chuck nearly choked. "What?"

Jacob sputtered. "I-I mean. If we really want to ensure that she's safe, the safest route would be… S-sleeping in the same room as Miss Waldorf or soon to be Mrs. Bass."

-------

When the knock startled them, Dorota quickly went and opened the door. She frowned when she found Jacob there.

"Miss Blair busy," she snapped at him.

"Good morning to you, too, Miss Dorota," Jacob's eyes narrowed as he tried to look around her for Blair.

"Go away, Mr. Jacob."

"Dorota, let him in," Blair said over her shoulder as she watched her mother draw, studying some flower samples in her hands.

Jacob smirked at Dorota, and the woman fumed, stomping away.

"Good morning Miss Waldorf," he nodded at Blair, who smiled slightly at him. She was composed now. Her hair was in an elegantly loose bun, and she had on a pleated navy dress that Jacob remembered Chuck approving of. She had a red rose pin on her hair and her lips matched it.

"What says your master?" She asked coyly.

"We have a seamstress in the house, Ruby's sister. She's quite talented, and Mr. Bass suggested she make you a new wedding dress," he announced.

Eleanor seemed to perk up at his, and she quickly flipped the pages of her drawing book.

"I think it's fine, Jacob – I have a lovely dress I can wear. It's nothing fancy –"

"Blair – you will wear this. I want to see this girl so we can discuss exactly how this needs to be executed and what fabric she thinks she can use on one of my designs," Eleanor declared, showing Blair the original dress she had mapped out for her.

Jacob looked impressed, and Dorota shook her head.

Blair took the drawing from her mother's hand and smiled slowly.

"Lets see what she can do, ok?" She replied, and her mother arched a brow at her and slipped on her glasses.

"I'm sure her work is mediocre," Eleanor bristled, and Jacob laughed, making Dorota glare at him.

-------------

Blair took in the young girl with wild-colored hair and a couple of pens stuck in her hair haphazardly. She wore ripped jeans and a torn sweater that revealed a purple bra underneath. She was barefoot and had a tattoo of chains around her ankles. Her nails were painted neon green and had been scratched off with frightening cuticles. Her earrings were held in place with torn pencil erasers. Perched on her nose was a pair of white plastic glasses, and she wore glittery lip-gloss as she loudly smacked her gum. Overall – she was a mess. And to think Blair had complained about Vanessa.

"I'll have to make some changes," she explained, a clear New York accent seeping off her. "There's no way I can find material for a train like that." She pulled a pen from her hair. "And this beading? No can do – I don't know how many hands God gave you, but he only gave me two," she continued, drawing over the dress. "But overall, I think I can manage it. If, of course, Lord Fauntleroy doesn't pitch a fit over his tux. Someone has to control him."

Blair smiled, holding back from rolling on the floor and laughing.

"I will control him," she volunteered.

He girl looked her over her glasses. "You do that, honey."

"I'm sorry – _what_ exactly are your credentials?" Eleanor demanded, and Blair sighed.

"Mom –"

"Did my internship with Betsey Johnson at the age of 1,5 and then launched my own line a couple of years later titled _Clique Laurent_," she said in a bored tone. "Valued at 25 million before the crash. My shoes and headbands were featured in some teen show."

"Oh!" Blair cried happily. "I had a few of your shoes – they were lovely."

"They were," she snapped.

"Pollyanna," Jacob warned her, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"Fine," she ground out. "You're giving me shit time, though – I'll have to work through the night and with limited smoke breaks to get this done on time."

"Is that a yes?" Blair asked her.

Pollyanna rolled her eyes. "Keep your boy off me," she sighed and looked at the design. "This is going to be like Project Runway on crack."

"Make it work., Blair smiled.

--------

To be honest, they hadn't really interacted since the moment she had screamed, and he had rushed into her room like some romance novel hero. He was pathetic. Pounding on doors, dismissing staff, giving up his seamstresses, adjusting the menu for something low in sodium… It was all too much.

"And then Miss Blair said I could keep the purse because I didn't have one of my own…" Ruby prattled on next to him as she coddled the cat Chuck had promised Blair he would get. "… And do you know she let me wear some of her perfume? I think I told you that. And I heard about what Miss Clara did, and she's just jealous because Miss Blair is prettier than her…"

Chuck had a headache.

"… And I was allowed to name the cat, which I'm going to name Cat, because Miss Blair said Breakfast at Tiffany's was her favorite movie, and in that movie the cat is named Cat – isn't that silly?"

"Very," Chuck rubbed his temples.

"… And the dress Polly is making is stunning! Miss Blair is going to look just like a princess, and I heard you're going to look very handsome too, Lord Bass. Are you two going to dance? Because Mr. Jacob is making sure a dance floor is installed and finished for tomorrow."

Chuck watched in amusement as Cat tried to extract himself from Ruby's overly loving hands. Good thing he had it declawed – he refused to risk any of his furniture due to Blair's need for a pet.

"… Do you know how to dance, Miss Blair?" Ruby asked, suddenly standing up, and Chuck realized that Blair was standing by the study, watching them. He cursed internally and quickly stood.

"Y-yes, Ruby," Blair nodded.

"Have you and Lord Bass ever danced together?" Ruby's eyes were sparkling as she held a struggling Cat.

Blair smiled down at her and then spied Chuck's face. He looked downright frightened.

"Humm… Yes. Many times," Blair admitted. Chuck cleared his throat.

"I hear the preparations are going well," he commented, and Ruby looked between them two.

"Yes, your whole staff is very diligent and apparently happy about the end of your bachelorhood," Blair smirked at him, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Aren't we supposed to not see each other the day before the wedding?" He teased.

"Yes, it's bad luck," she nodded. "But I figured, we're in the middle a war… There's little else that can damage us."

Ruby looked back and forth and apparently so was Cat. "Won't you practice the dance?" she piped up.

Blair and Chuck looked at her.

"It's not necessary," Blair commented, taking Cat from her and setting the animal on the floor. He quickly scurried away, happy at being let go.

"Oh yes, please – I don't know how to dance," Ruby pouted.

Blair's eyes brightened. "Well, we can't have that. Every proper lady should know how to dance."

Ruby looked elated.

"Chuck," Blair said, and his head snapped to look at her. "Show her."

Chuck's brows furrowed.

"I'm busy!" He ground out, not happy about her pushing him around.

"Yes, you look swamped," she said, taking Ruby's hand and walking her to Chuck. She placed the little girl before him. "Now," she explained. "The gentleman has to ask – he must initiate," she explained.

Chuck raised his brow because the last time they had shared a dance, she had done all the asking. He pondered on this for a while.

"Then you agree, _if_ he's a gentleman," Blair smirked at her, and Ruby giggled. "Then he takes your left hand in his right hand – Chuck!" Chuck shifted, and then agreed, taking Ruby's hand as the little girl giggled. "And he will place his left hand on your waist, while your right hand is placed on his shoulder or picking up the train of your dress."

Chuck was bent forward since Ruby was so much shorter than him. He looked up at Blair, who was smiling at him.

"And then you let him lead…" she said softly. Chuck took that as his cue and swayed Ruby softly. The little girl was smiling like a mad hatter, but looking dreamily at Chuck.

"Now you, Miss Blair!" Ruby pulled away from Chuck and turned to Blair, who was suddenly aghast.

"No – Ruby –"

"Yes, _Miss. Blair,_" Chuck teased, smirking at her and delighting in her discomfort.

Her nostrils flared as she glared at him.

"Fine, M'lord," she snipped, and he glared. "But you're going to have to ask."

Her eyes were bright because she knew he wouldn't. Not when she had challenged him to. He'd rather swallow coals. He ground his teeth, and Ruby looked innocently between the two.

"Lord Bass, you must ask. Remember, the gentleman must ask, he must initiate and _only_ if he's a gentleman will she agree to it," Ruby repeated Blair's words.

Chuck glanced at the girl, and then back at Blair – his eyes still narrowed.

"She remembers well," he commented.

Blair smiled happily at him and then took Ruby's hand. "C'mon, Ruby. Lets see how the dress is going." She pulled the unhappy girl out of the room and threw Chuck a lovely smirk over her shoulder.

Chuck sat down with a huff as Cat wandered back into the room and curled around his leg. He was covered in her.

---------

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep. Just a few feet away, her husband to be was sleeping. This was it. Blair Waldorf was getting married. To the boy she had lost her virginity to. To a boy, a man, she thought she hated for so many years. To the boy who had thrown sand in her face as a child and pulled her hair a few too many times. It was surreal.

Everything in her life; every step, every decision, had brought her to this. If she had never gone to do that interview, if she had never agreed to write about Chuck, if she had never been thrown out, if she had never gone to that dance, if she had never left her shoe… If she had never gone to see him at Victrola that night, if she had never gone up and danced, if she had never accepted the ride afterwards, if… if… if…

She tossed once more, the sheets feeling sticky on her skin. She couldn't sleep.

She was getting married. She was getting married for money, but it was no longer about that… It had stopped being about that since… Since he'd rescued her mother's ring.

She sat up and stared at the door that connected them.

She took a deep breath and walked to it. If she could just look at him for a moment. After the incident with the dress, they agreed to keep the doors unlocked between them, and if she could just tip in and see him… Just for a moment, to reassure herself that this would all turn out alright.

--------

Chuck had given up being on the bed. Something was wrong with it.

He'd have to get a new one.

He was marrying Blair Waldorf. In a few hours, he would be married to Blair Waldorf. This was insane. Guys like him didn't marry. They most certainly didn't marry Blair Waldorf.

Since this entire mess had started, all he could think was how he could save her after he had abandoned them all – knowing that they were going through hard times. Now all he could think was about her truly wanting him back the way he was needing her, and it was killing him because… Because he was no longer marrying for image.

It had changed a long time ago. Perhaps when he saw her home in the condition that it was. Perhaps when he saw her in the wedding dress as she looked on from the elevator.

He didn't know when it had changed, but he started realizing that all his life had led him to this very moment. Life had intended for him to marry Blair, regardless of condition.

In an alternate universe, he would've stayed, they would've talked once more after their last conversation. They might've have even danced at his father's wedding, they might've gone for a summer in Italy. They might've held hands, gone to the movies… It was all a dream. Things like that didn't happen.

War happened. Economic crisis happened. Death happened. These things were real. Everything else was window dressing.

But here he was, years later, and he was marrying her. She _agreed_ to marry him.

He felt this feeling he hadn't been able to contain erupt in his chest, until he thought he couldn't breathe, and he thought if maybe he just looked at her sleeping. Just watched her for a moment, it would quell the feeling that was taking over his bloodstream.

So he stood and, with shaky hands, went to the door.

That moment, he opened the door.

That same moment, she opened the door.

They stared at each other.

Four feet. Forty-eight inches of space between them.

Their eyes were wide. The doors locked behind them, and it was just them. Darkness was around them except for the warm glow a small night light reflected in the small space. Just them.

No more pretending. No more charades. No more deals. No more politeness. Just them. No one else would see what happened now. No one else would understand.

"Blair –"

"Chuck –"

And before either could respond, he strode to her, and she eagerly reached up. And they were kissing.

Kissing like something was ending to bring a new beginning.

--------

To be continued

AN - I wanted to thank each person who takes time out to leave a review, I really appreciate it :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 13** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_And there is nothing left to do  
__But to kiss once again, and part,  
__Nay, there is nothing we should rue,  
__I have my beauty,-you your Art,  
__Nay, do not start,  
__One world was not enough for two  
__Like me and you."  
__Oscar Wilde_

He grabbed her and was now pushing her against the mahogany wall of the hallway, and she was grasping his head as his tongue invaded her quivering mouth.

He grabbed her ass and pulled her up, running his hands under her silken gown and greedily seizing his favorite part of her body. Her thighs. She gasped into his mouth when he squeezed them, leaving his fingerprints on her, because she was _his. _She arched back in appreciation, moaning into him and roughly yanking at his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more.

She'd never felt like this.

And she remembered that no man had made love to her the way he had.

Make love. Make love to her. She was saying those words in her head, she was chanting them, but they wouldn't escape her lips. Her lips were too busy rediscovering his once more. Tasting them, drowning in them – being assaulted by them.

No man had ever kissed her the way she was being kissed now.

With the raw hunger of a lifetime of suppression; building, building, until it created an explosion of color. An explosion of lust-filled-love.

Love.

With the L and with the V.

She gasped and pushed him back. He stumbled back to the other side of the small hallways, still gasping, still confused and with an obvious erection between in his legs.

"Goodnight, Bass," she managed and with stumbling, wobbly, confused, possibly inebriated legs, she made it to her door.

He stared at her retreating form.

"What the fuck, Blair?" He cried, and she turned sharply to him.

"What does that mean?" She demanded.

"You attack me like some sexually deprived animal, and now you're all _goodnight, Bass_?" He hissed. His hair was disheveled, and she was pretty sure he was missing some buttons on his shirt. She didn't know who had done that. It was like she was a repressed individual in the middle of a drought. Wait. She was that individual.

"_I_ attacked you? Oh, you poor thing!" She snapped.

He stood there, staring her down. "What does this mean?" He demanded, pointing between them. His finger did not shake. It just didn't.

She shifted because his eyes were doing that thing again. That thing that he did when he saw right through her soul. Yeah, _that_ thing.

"It means…" she paused, licking her lips. "What it means… How come _I_ have to say it? Why don't you say it? You strode over her, grabbed _me_."

"What were you doing in this hallway –"

"What were you?"

"I was checking on _you!_ Last time you jumped on me –"

"It was out of fear from psychotic staff –"

"Then why did you kiss me back?" He cried. The hallways felt stuffy.

"Why did you even begin it?" She asked.

God, she was beautiful when angry.

"I…" He swallowed and looked over at her. "I don't fucking know."

"I don't, either," she confessed, and now they were left just as confused as they started out.

"Maybe I'm sentimental… Remembering how good things were before the world started falling apart around us," she said softly.

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Things were simple then," he agreed.

"So, is that what this is?" She asked softly, caressing her chilled upper arms.

He watched her, watched her dark curls, all tossed and tempting… The ivory of her gown contrasting against her hair. Her lips were pink and swollen and her feet were bare.

"It must be," he ground out, slumped against the wall.

He didn't take his eyes off her – he was almost afraid to. Afraid he would wake to find that the hallway incident had never happened.

"Chuck…" she started, and he stiffened when she came closer to him. Her eyes were wide and dark, full of peppermint and empty promises.

And she smelled divine.

She had felt divine.

She had tasted even better.

They still had each other's saliva in their mouths. This thought was absolutely mind-boggling.

"… I'm not marrying you for your money."

There. She had said it. Fuck, she had said it. She should be panicking. He could use this against her to destroy her. But what did she have to destroy? She had no dignity, no home, no reputation – no nothing. She had this boy. This man – come back from wherever people went when they left your life. Come back from that place. No longer paper imagery. No longer that. Now raw and real and warm and alive and full of passionate promises. Though his words may not say it – his lips certainly did. His kisses did.

Chuck swallowed. He stared at her. Listened to her words. Let the words sweep over him.

"Then why are you marrying me?" He asked, his voice low – almost a whisper, but in the confines of the hallway it was a booming echo of their thoughts. A whale of a confession.

She shook her head, staring at him. "I don't know."

He understood then. It was not the money. It was the gratitude. He nodded, pressing his lips together and pushing himself off the wall, making them come dangerously close to one another once more.

His breath was on her lips but, before she could protest, he walked past her and back into his room.

She stared at the closed door, exhaling sharply.

If there was one thing that she was certain of now more than ever, it was that this little moment would make their wedding night even more complicated.

-------

Chuck stood in the middle of his room, still harshly breathing, his lips still remembering the feel of her kisses on him, her little hands – everything about her. The way she purred his name when they were younger, the way she could rock her hips in a circular motion when he used to enter her that just drove him absolutely crazy.

No woman had ever made him lose control like that. None.

And he'd been with plenty. Had them all colors, all shapes – but there was something about that Waldorf skin that made him ache for it. Something about her perfectly shaped lips, her cherub cheeks, her wide eyes that made him just… Make him be something other than what he was.

He cursed loudly, pressing his hand against his erection, and reaching out to grab his bedpost to steady him.

"Fuck, Waldorf… You kill me, woman," he whispered to the empty room.

-------

Needless to say, neither slept through the night.

Blair paced back and forth and then, when she was sure no one would disrupt her, she crawled to bed and brought herself pleasure by thinking of his hands on her and the memories of him entering her over and over until her fingers cramped from holding on to the sheets as she found her release. Once released… She realized she was still needy and blamed him all for it.

Chuck came four times thanks to his hand. Once his hand was tired and his libido was still unsatisfied, he proceeded to think of things that were the furthest from Blair Waldorf.

Gay priests. Mating buffaloes. Praying mantis. Taking a shit.

He was frustrated, in a foul mood, and that's how Jacob found him. Spread eagle on his bed, his pants now zipped, and his shirt as messy as it had been all night.

"Rough night?" Jacob inquired, looking at Chuck, who was staring blankly at the ceiling.

"She's killing me," Chuck growled, as if he'd been a victim of severe abuse.

"I take it that you've had a… _restless_ night, sir." Jacob walked to his curtains and yanked them open, letting in the light of the bright sun. "Well, it's a lovely morning."

------

Blair was stuffed under the covers, still pissed off, still blaming Chuck Bass for the world being in chaos.

That's how Dorota found her. Only her face was peeking out from her covers, and she was scowling in no particular direction.

"Bad night, Miss Blair?" She asked knowingly.

"He's killing me. I'm sure," Blair replied, annoyed.

"Hummm…." Dorota nodded and walked to the curtains and yanked them opened, letting in the light of the bring sun. "Beautiful day for wedding."

-------

"And then she's like 'I'm not marrying you for your money'," Chuck complained, still not moving from his spot on the bed as Jacob walked around the room, pulling out his tux and setting out his accessories.

He paused in what he was doing, his interest piqued. "And what did you say?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to say? Now it's for gratitude, and I'm not sure if that's worse or what –"

"Sir, it means that perhaps she feels for you," Jacob ventured.

Chuck's head turned to glare at him. "She doesn't _feel_ for me. She feels for herself – this is still about her!"

"Really?" Jacob grabbed Chuck's best shoes and set them by the tux.

-------

"And then he just _grabs_ me, and what was I supposed to do?" Blair remained in her spot, with her face peeking out from under the covers.

"He _grabbed_ you?" Dorota asked, almost scandalized, as she took out Blair's silk stockings.

"Yes! And then he pushed me against the wall, and now I've been horny since!" Blair spat.

"Miss Blair!" Dorota chided.

"I can't help it, Dorota!" Blair cried, nearly in tears after the night she had.

"Well, he will be husband," Dorota reasoned, happy with her selection of shoes and jewelry.

"He probably did it on purpose!" Blair moaned into her sheets. "Now all I can think of is the wedding night!"

-----

"I still don't understand what your purpose was in the hallway, sir." Jacob pulled Chuck up by his hands as the younger man refused to sit up.

Chuck glared at him. "I wanted to check on her – after the dress mess!"

"Of course, sir," Jacob grunted as he threw Chuck over his shoulder and carried him fireman-style to his prepared bath.

"And now I have to marry her!" Chuck complained as he was carried.

"You don't have to marry her, sir," Jacob told him, still grunting as he slowly made his way to the bath.

"Of course I have to marry her! Then it'll seem like I care!"

------

Dorota yanked Blair's sheets from her.

"And now he'll have _that_ smug look on his face!" Blair cried as Dorota pulled her by her feet until she was sliding off the large bed.

"Don't look at him!" Dorota snapped.

"I have to look at him, he'll be my husband in a few hours!" Blair whined as Dorota pulled her arm over her shoulder and hefted her up from her wobbly legs.

"You don't have to marry," Dorota reasoned.

"Of course I have to marry him! Then it'll seem like I'm in love with him or something!" Blair complained as Dorota nearly dragged her to her bath.

"You no love him, Miss Blair?" Dorota grunted, carrying the majority of Blair's weight.

"Of course I don't!" Blair spat.

------

"Well, do you care?" Jacob asked after finally stripping Chuck down to his boxers by the filled tub.

"No!" Chuck spat when Jacob turned around for Chuck to get into his bubble bath. "Yes – maybe, I don't fucking know!"

Jacob brought Chuck his sponge and liquid soap, Chuck snatched it from him as he sat amidst bubbles.

"Perhaps Miss Blair cares more than you think," Jacob suggested.

Chuck made a derisive sound. "She's Blair Waldorf – and I'm most certainly NOT a prince charming!"

"Well, sir – you did save her," Jacob reasoned, fishing for Chuck's favorite robe.

"Exactly! She still carries this image of me that is not true!"

-------

"And he doesn't exactly make it easy, you know!" Blair continued as she sat in her bubble bath as Dorota provided her with her liquid soap and bath oils.

"Of course not – horrible man." Dorota handed her the oil.

"I mean he's not all terrible – not all the time. It's like I have to marry old Chuck with the new Chuck in my head to get the man I'm marrying!" Blair cried, snatching the oil from Dorota angrily.

"Miss Blair, perhaps you like Mr. Chuck," Dorota suggested.

"I most certainly do not! I mean, I get confused, yes – the kissing and horseback riding don't help, you know!" Blair scrubbed her skin angrily.

"Very simple, Miss. Blair." Dorota looked around for a robe. "No more kissing. No more horses."

"It's not that simple!" Blair ground out. "Now I'm going to be his wife. Sure, I can ignore him while here, but when we have to go out and face the public, I have to act like a woman in love with the self-righteous, sexy bastard."

"You think he sexy?"

------

"I suggest no more horseback rides, no dancing, no being nice, and no private dinners," Jacob said as he handed Chuck his bowtie.

Chuck was now dressed in his tux pants, crisp white shirt and shiny shoes.

"I don't intend to. I intend to ignore her," Chuck snapped, looking at himself in the mirror. "After tonight, I will not touch her."

"No touching," Jacob nodded as Chuck began to comb his hair back.

-------

"I think he a good man, Miss Blair." Dorota worked her magic on Blair's hair as Blair sat stiffly while her nails dried.

"He's not!" Blair spat. "I mean he is – just not a good man to marry."

"Still good," Dorota smiled, satisfied at her handiwork.

"Whichever. One thing is evident. After tonight, I will not touch him." Blair wiggled her drying toes.

"Good. No touching," Dorota agreed, taking out Blair's perfume.

-------

"How do I look?" Chuck asked, now finally polished and complete.

"Like a groom," Jacob remarked.

"All the preparations ready?" He asked, pushing down the nervous flitters going through his stomach.

"As promised." Jacob nodded.

"Have you seen her today?" Chuck asked, and Jacob shook his head sourly.

"I was not _allowed_ to," he spat.

Chuck's brows rose. "Dorota?"

"Yes – _her_." Jacob hissed.

Chuck smirked.

-------

"How do I look?" Blair asked, finally outfitted.

Dorota looked near tears next to Pollyanna, and Ruby as her mother fixed bits on the dress that she claimed were 'wrong'.

"Beautiful," Dorota murmured.

"Yes, I agree – you're down to your ideal weight." Eleanor nodded appreciatively.

"I think she looks like a –"

"Princess, yes we know," Polly put in. Ruby glared at her.

Blair smiled indulgently at Ruby, who also looked lovely in a small white dress, with her hair up in a simple bun. She was holding Blair's bouquet in her hand. A bouquet of coral begonias with an elegant ivory bow tied to it.

Ruby smiled at Blair's dress. The dress was strapless with a beautiful beaded princess cut waist, the skirt opened up elegantly with detailed beading all around the edges.

"It's not my best work, by far, but I suppose it'll do," Eleanor commented.

"I feel like an intern once more," Polly commented, showing Blair her bandaged fingers.

It was Eleanor who carefully placed Blair's veil on her head, the pin softly entering Blair's perfect up do. Blair smiled at her mom, and Eleanor looked pleased.

"Didn't I say you would make a beautiful bride?" She asked Blair softly before bringing the veil forward and covering Blair's face.

"Thank you, Mom…" Blair said softly. "Thank you."

Eleanor nodded and turned to Polly and Ruby. "C'mon."

Ruby, smiling at Blair, walked to her and gave her the flowers. Blair smiled back and thanked her.

Blair looked on, once they had left her and turned to Dorota.

"This is it," Blair said softly. "I'm getting married. I'm marrying Chuck Bass."

Dorota went before her and looked at her with wide eyes. "Miss Blair – if you don't want to –"

"I do," Blair said suddenly. She took a sharp breath.

"_Where are you going?" He asked from the bed, looking happy and sated. She slipped her shoes on, avoiding his look because his eyes always burned her. Plus, she knew he would easily convince her to stay. Entirely too easily._

"_I'm going," she snapped at him. "Kati and Iz will barge in any moment."_

_His bare foot peaked out from under the sheets and caressed her thigh. She took in a sharp breath and moved away._

"_Stop it," she warned him. That did it for him – he sat up and grabbed her, pulling her against him, nuzzling her neck as she feebly attempted to struggle._

"_Bass –"_

"_Stay a bit," he whispered, tasting her skin, making her jump involuntarily. _

"_Why? We're not the cuddling types," she told him._

"_Because I like how you feel in my arms," he confessed, kissing her shoulder once more._

_She couldn't breathe because she had __never__ felt so very loved and wanted. And his arms went around her and, though she would __never__ confess it, she felt them too. You know, the butterflies._

"You say not a word. Not one."

Dorota looked at her with wide eyes. "You love him."

Blair looked down, trying to control herself. "He doesn't. So please, please pretend I didn't say that."

"Oh, Miss Blair," Dorota was gasping, a minute from crying herself.

"I'm ready." Blair shook, walking forward, bringing her dress with her.

"You have to tell him, Miss Blair!" Dorota urged her. Blair's soft eyes met hers and Dorota had to hold herself back from holding her like her own child.

"I'll never tell him," Blair nodded, holding on to her flowers tightly.

Blair stared at her, imploring her to just let it go, to please let it go for her sake, because she didn't know what had come over her. Who did she think she was, falling in love with a man who pretended to care for her? She was a mess – the severe lack of men around her had produced these results.

Dorota nodded at her and walked to the door, holding it opened for her. Blair took a sharp breath. The day meant to be the happiest day of her life was turning out to be a disaster. She was in love with her husband. Her husband was not in love with her.

She felt like she was sixteen once more; nearly engaged to Nathaniel Archibald, wearing the family ring, and suffocating.

-------

Chuck shifted from side to side as he waited. The entire village had been invited to the wedding. It was the least he could do – they were as close to having family around as he would ever get.

Jacob had done an awesome job setting up everything to Blair's specific wishes. From the coral-colored flowers to the classic details of an outdoor wedding surrounded by the Highlands.

The temperature was dropping, and Chuck knew that soon it would be too cold to wear normal garments. He was attempting to think of anything and everything other than the fact that he was waiting for Blair Waldorf to walk down the isle. To walk down the isle towards him. To become his. To belong to him – for him to belong to her.

His palms felt sweaty and hot at that same time.

His breath stopped short as the music began and those in attendance stood by as pretty little Ruby walked first with her little bouquet and smiling face.

And suddenly, there she was in the most beautiful gown he had ever seen her wear. And he'd seen her in a good many dresses. She was born to be a stunning bride.

"_When I marry, I will look stunning!" Twelve year old Blair told a bored Chuck Bass._

"_I don't really care, Waldorf – isn't this a Serena conversation?" Chuck Bass drawled, moving his chess piece strategically. _

_Blair raised a brow at his bold move. "Well played, Bass – anyone would think you wanted my king."_

"_My queen is desperate for your king," he smirked at her, sending her a wink – which he knew she hated._

"_You're so heinous, Blass," she spat. "And you'll never win me over."_

"_If brave Nathaniel wasn't around, I'd have your attention," he kidded with her._

_She rolled her eyes and moved one of her pawns. "Like you would ever marry."_

"_Fair enough – I will be a bachelor till I die. Plus, if I can't have you, why bother?" He raked his eyes over her legs, tucked under her; she managed to make that look elegant. _

_She pulled one leg out and kicked him. "I'd rather die than marry you, Chuck Bass!"_

_He laughed at her._

Chuck was pulled back from his memories – his lost and wounded childhood memories. That's when he realized something that he had hidden under decades of shells and protective walls.

"Jacob," Chuck said – as a statement, not a question.

Jacob quickly leaned in. "Sir?"

"I'm in love with her. Always have been… Always will be," Chuck whispered for his ears only. Jacob's mouth fell opened as he stared at Chuck – 101 thoughts running through his head.

"Sir… You have to tell her," Jacob urged. Chuck's eyes were glued to Blair's walking form, she was coming closer and closer, and he was pretty sure he would pass out.

"She doesn't love me, and you say not one word. Is that understood?" Chuck snapped at him.

Jacob swallowed and nodded, looking at ahead. Two lost souls. Two lost children that loved each other and neither would admit it to one another.

Everyone else saw it except them.

--------

To be continued


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 14** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_I love you,  
__but I don't love you.  
__I gamble with these words  
__and the winner shall be the liar."  
__Carilda Oliver Labra, __Eve's Disclosure_

Blair took a breath and stayed rooted on the spot. The wedding area, which was to the east of the house, was just like she had envisioned it and given her instructions to the staff. In the middle of the Scottish highlands, it screamed Upper East Side. She'd have it no other way – the old Blair. Meaning the Blair that hadn't realized she was marrying a man she loved. The new Blair would've married Chuck Bass under a palm tree with a ripped dress.

Before her lay the path of white wild flowers that she would walk on to the altar. To reach Chuck. To reach her beloved. His eyes were on her form, and even from far away, she felt he could see right through her charade.

He'd always been able to see right through her charade.

He would see right through her now. She'd be transparent to him because now that she _knew_ she was in love, she didn't know how to hide it. How to look at him, how to act, how to touch him, how to laugh with him or at him. Shit! This was going to fall apart at the seams.

She couldn't breathe.

"Are you ready, Miss Blair?" Ruby asked her, holding her own little bouquet as perfectly as possible.

Blair looked down at her and slowly nodded.

She watched as Ruby made it to the front, smiling lovingly at Chuck before the audience full of people she didn't know turned to her. This was it.

One step before another.

One foot before the next.

Do it now, Waldorf.

And her music was her cue. She went forward. She made the decision, then and there. She would marry. She would marry him and love him – even if it killed her. Even if she had her own secrets. She had thousands of regrets when it came to this man. Things that should've, could've, would've gone differently. But this was the wildflower-covered path before her. This was a path of her making and her choosing.

She could've had Chuck Bass many years ago – she could've gone to him at his father's wedding. Waltzed to him and danced with him. She knew he wouldn't have refused her. She could've held his hand at his father's funeral.

She hadn't. She'd stayed away.

And now, years later, despite them, despite the world and the entire universe conspiring against them, they were getting married and she was walking to him. Becoming his and no one else's.

She could see him more clearly now.

_Oh, God, oh, God…_

And he stepped down, walking towards her, and she felt the air knocked out of her. His eyes were as intense as ever as he reached out and offered her his arm. Her eyes never left his through her veil, and she finally nodded, taking his hand. The feel of his skin against hers made her gasp a little, but she controlled herself as he pulled her up the steps of the mock-altar. His skin was warm and comforting. It was familiar.

They both stared ahead. Stared at the priest as she slid her hand into his arm.

The priest's words were drowned out in her ears, she felt her blood pulsating and making her dizzy, so she held on tighter to him.

Chuck looked down at her, she was covered in ivory, but he could see her face, eyes wide and mouth set as she stared ahead.

"_I'm not marrying you for your money."_

Her small little hand tightened at the crook of his elbow and, unconsciously, he placed his hand over hers, trying to comfort her. Because he would be good to her. He would try to be a good husband. Her eyes met his as he did this and stayed locked in with his. He didn't know what this meant as the priest went on about love, vows, marriage. And this was it. In a few minutes, he would be a married man. He would marry the one woman he had ever loved – out of all the women he had known and been with. His marriage before had been a joke. A Las Vegas joke. This was real. Blair was real. His own little Kryptonite that had changed him in ways a woman should never change a man. She had managed it.

And now the vows. Shit. He couldn't remember his name.

"Do you, Charles Bartholomew Bass, take Blair Cornelia Waldorf, to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to hold; and to be faithful together until death do you part?"

A lifetime of a moment passed before his eye as the question was posed to him. He knew the answer – had _always_ known the answer. But this was it. He now had to accept her. Let her be his – his responsibility and no one else's. Not Nathaniel's, not her father's, but _his_.

"I do." His ears rang, and he was pretty sure they were red. He felt her gaze on him for a moment before the attention was turned to her.

Blair felt all eyes on her – she was still reeling from the fact that Chuck had accepted. He had accepted her – for her to belong to him. She was his now. No one else's. She would never belong to another other man but him.

And now her turn. Her turn, to in exchange, take him. For him to belong to her. To care for him, to cherish him…

"Do you, Blair Cornelia Waldorf, take Charles Bartholomew Bass, to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to hold; and to be faithful together until death do you part?"

Her throat felt dry.

She had memories of them as children; how he annoyed her, how he was a thorn in her side and Nate's constant companion – how she would never admit to enjoying his company. And this was it. She was marrying that boy. She was in love with that boy.

"I-I do."

There. She'd done it. She was his as much as he was hers. They belonged to one another.

The priest asked for the rings, which Jacob produced with shaky hands to Chuck. And now they were facing one another as he took her small hand – her warm small hand and slipped the ring into her finger.

"With this ring… I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment," he grunted out – in bad need of a joint.

She looked down at her ring and stifled a gasp, then looked up at him.

She knew this ring. And he wouldn't meet her eyes. It was… Grace Kelly's engagement ring. A ring fit for a princess. An emerald-cut diamond and two baguette diamonds mounted in platinum next to a small simple platinum band. Her hand shook because she would've never thought he'd listened to all of her prattling as a child and her dreams of a Princess of Monaco ring.

Before she could become sentimental, Jacob was handing her Chuck's ring, which was a plain platinum band, she grabbed it and gently took his own hand. His skin felt real against her own – like the most real thing she'd ever felt. Slowly she slipped it into his finger.

"With this ring I thee wed. Wear it as a symbol of our love and commitment." Her voice was low and shaky and then finally their eyes met.

It was a lifetime of pauses, a lifetime of talks, a lifetime of each other's company, a lifetime of kisses, arguments, tears, betrayals, pain – yet in the mists of all the pauses, talks, moments, kisses and losses they had sealed one another.

In love and war, in sickness and pain, in loss and reencounter, somehow – a little tiny pit of a mustard seed of hope had blossomed, and they had found one another. Neither knew what words to give, but wondered with all their mortal souls if the other was feeling as complete as they were.

"… Now as you, Charles Bass, and you, Blair Waldorf, have consented together in matrimony and have pledged your faith to each other by the giving and receiving of

these rings, I now pronounce you - Husband and Wife."

Their hands were still joined. Their eyes were still locked. They wouldn't have been able to look away if they even tried.

"You may kiss your bride." The priest leaned in.

Blair took a breath as Chuck let go of her small hands and took the edges of her veil and slowly, ever so gently revealed her face.

She saw his jaw twitching – his eyes still burning through her the way they always did. Like the night she gave this same man her virginity, like she'd given him her heart.

Chuck stared down at his _bride_ and let out a breath.

He'd done it. He'd married Blair Waldorf. He was her husband, and she was his wife.

He didn't know if to be elated, sick or petrified. What did he know about being a husband? What would happen when they fought – which would be soon and quickly coming. 101 things would go wrong. He would lose her, gain her – she would break him and make him whole.

She blinked at him. Waiting for it. Waiting for him to kiss her. To 'seal the deal'.

So he leaned in, her scent reminding him of nights spent with her naked in his arms, with her ignoring him and now… Of their kisses, of her eyes, and of their marriage.

So he pressed his lips to hers and their lids fluttered close, brushing gently against each other's cheeks.

She felt her heart literally stop when he leaned in and kissed her. In front of all these people. Before their witnesses, before each other, and before God – if he was still up there.

All the worries and tension that she had felt evaporated when his lips touched hers, because it was more intimate than anything they had ever shared. They were now married. They had sealed their deal, regardless of the emotions and feelings that had either developed or finally been uncovered.

Her hand reached out and touched his face as he kissed her, and he pulled back, looking at her with wide eyes. Caramel. His eyes were now caramel color. She gulped as her hand slowly slipped from his face to his shoulder, and she kept it there as to not fall over.

"Ladies and gentleman, I present to you: Mr. & Mrs. Bass!"

The crowd around them clapped and some cheered as their eyes remained locked with one another.

Slowly, mostly with the guidance of Jacob, they turned to face the crowd, who greeted them with warm smiles and happy eyes.

He took her hand and guided it through his arm and helped her down the steps. Then they couldn't help but smile as flowers were thrown over them as they made it down the isle. Chuck urged her on, pulling her down the same aisle she'd made it up alone, now with him as her husband.

They stood together as they thanked every one for coming, kissing and hugging when appropriate, and looking forward to the festivities where food would be served and music would be played. But mostly they used it as a distraction from the fact that in the deep recesses of their mind they were blindingly happy.

Blair herself was impressed with the dining hall, which was really a large white tent set up by the ceremony area filled with tables, autumn flowers and music. The tables were round and rather rustic but, considering that she was marrying in the Scottish highlands, it seemed rather fitting. The villagers looked like this was their first party, and Blair wondered if Chuck encouraged festivities.

"Have you ever held a party here?" She asked him, leaning over him as they sat at their 'head table'. He turned to her and stared at her, confused – this was a rarity this day since he had been ignoring her for the most part, though they never left each other's side except for when Blair needed to use the restroom, and it took Dorota, her senile mother, Ruby and Polly to get her ass on the toilet seat. Bridal gowns were overrated, she decided. She dimly wondered how Diana did this with dignity.

"No… I'm usually out of the country for Holidays," he confessed, and she looked pleased.

"Well, I'm holding a Thanksgiving and Christmas festival," she told him with a satisfied smirk on her face. His eyes looked at her brightly, and this sent a warm current through her stomach.

"Seems like a good year to start one," he nodded. "Considering we wont be able to travel for a while."

Her brows furrowed. "How long, do you think?" She asked him.

He shrugged. "The way things are? A few months. Maybe a year."

"Oh," was her response. "Then can I be trusted with the preparations?"

He smiled at her then. "A Waldorf soirée – I haven't been to one in a while."

She turned pink unwittingly. "You mean a Bass-Waldorf soirée."

"Yeah." His smile dropped from his face, and he quickly looked away. And just like that they were back to ignoring one another… That is, until the glasses chimed, and their guests demanded a kiss from the bride and groom.

She shook her head, smiling – acting like the blushing bride she was supposed to be, but Chuck nodded and took her face in his hands, never meeting her eyes, and kissed her. She felt herself grow hot and cold at the same time and once more all she could think about as his soft lips caressed hers was the night. The night that was quickly approaching.

Everyone, it seemed, wanted to meet her. She was bombarded by people who wanted to sing Chuck's praise and, by the end of their party, she found out that he had rescued more people than he'd liked to admit, taken in many more than he should have, and was a hero in all of their eyes. Their gratitude towards him knew no bounds, but her favorite part was when she found out that he had a bit of a soft spot for orphans.

Chuck himself had been an orphan, since Bart had really died a month before Chuck turned eighteen. If she hadn't admitted to herself that she loved him before, she would've been definitely in love with him by now.

Since she didn't know what to do with this information, she decided to tease him with it.

"The people think you're quite the hero, you know," she smirked at him when they found each other once more. He looked away but hid a smile.

"People, in their time of need, exaggerate and see things differently," he explained, his voice low and raspy.

"I'm sure that's it," she smiled at him knowingly.

He, himself, had been bombarded with comments.

_She's quite the catch._

_What a beauty, sir!_

_It's rather romantic how you married your high school sweetheart._

_Did you always love her?_

He was drowning in comments. He was drowning in Blair. Blair looked absolutely stunning, more stunning that he'd ever witnessed, and the sight of her was intoxicating. All he kept thinking in his mind was that in a few hours – in a few short hours – she would be all his. 100% his.

Plus, she was smiling and _acting_ like the happy bride she was supposed to be. She would lean on him, tell him that her feet hurt, let him kiss her when the damn glasses chimed, smiled at people, and re-tell the story of their love. What story of their love? There was no motherfucking love! He was internally, eternally irate.

Blair left Chuck's side to follow Ruby, who said she had something to show her. Ruby, for her part, was star struck for a lifetime. Blair was sure the little girl would never recuperate.

"Ruby –" Blair cried as she was taken away from the guests and towards the stables.

"It's a secret and a surprise!" Ruby said, her hair falling from the once elegant bun and her shoes now gone, replaced by rain boots under her lovely dress.

Blair's heels stuck in a mud a few times as she tried to prevent her dress from getting dirty on the floor. Once they entered the stables, Ruby quickly went towards the end.

The stables were large, fitting nearly fifty horses, and were full. The smell, however, was not the most pleasant. Blair scrunched up her nose as the scent of horses and their excretions hit her senses.

"Show me another time, Ruby, please –" Blair begged.

"No, you have to see it now!" Ruby told her, stopping by a stall and looking adoringly in. Blair's interest was peeked as she came to the girl and witnessed the sight before her. And there they were. Hera, her own horse, resting next to Chuck's black Arabian.

"They're in love," Ruby whispered.

Blair's mouth dropped as the horses nuzzled one another.

"Tristan and Hera are sweethearts, just like you and Lord Bass." Ruby smiled happily at her.

"Oh, Ruby – it's not always like this." Blair tried to bring the young girl down from her illusions. She sometimes wished someone had brought her down from her own illusions. Serena would center her – at times – but for the most part Serena always loved playing right along with her, letting Blair lead them down a dream-filled fantasy.

"Why? Don't you love Lord Bass?" Ruby asked, quite shocked.

Blair smiled at her. "Yes. I love him very much."

And now she was confessing it to random people when she should be telling him and risk the humiliation it would bring when he threw it in her face that this was all a bet – a silly game of theirs.

"Well, he loves you – you can tell by how he looks at you!" Ruby said happily.

"Yes – quite in love the two of you are."

The voice made Blair's blood freeze, and she quickly turned to find none other than Clara lounging by the stable door.

She was wearing khaki slacks and a white 'dress' shirt with knee-high boots and a black scarf tied around her neck. The same neck Blair wanted to wring. Blair instinctively pushed Ruby behind her – she didn't know how deranged this girl was.

"Clara," Blair said between clenched teeth.

"Blair," Clara nodded, eyeing her dress up and down. "Nice dress."

Blair's eyes narrowed, trying to remain her composure. "Custom made."

"Of course," Clara pushed herself off the doorframe and walked to Blair. Blair stiffened.

"Hello, Miss Clara," Ruby piped in from behind Blair's large skirt. Blair pushed her back.

"Ruby, long time no see – traded up, have you?" She asked, and Blair's nostrils flared.

"What do you want?" Blair demanded.

"I want plenty." Clara nodded.

"Of things I don't have – let's narrow down that list, shall we? Is there anything you want that I don't have?" Blair snapped. A slow smile formed on Clara's face.

"You're smarter than you look." Clara nodded, striding casually to Blair.

"You're not," Blair snapped.

"Miss Blair!"

Both Clara and Blair jumped at the sound of Dorota's voice. Blair let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Miss Blair, the first dance – please come." And Dorota threw Clara a stern and ugly look that Blair had never seen her display before… Except for that time she found Chuck and herself making out on her bed.

Clara smirked at Blair. "Watchdog?"

Blair nodded to Dorota, dragging Ruby with her and pointing at Clara with her nose.

"Watch the bitch."

Dorota, true to her word, didn't remove her eyes off Clara's form until Blair was trailing back towards the reception with Ruby behind her.

-----

"We can cut it short, if you like, sir," Jacob told him, watching Chuck anxiously. Chuck was pacing back and forth and had a strained smile on his face.

"No – no – it's fine. Apparently we should hold more festivities," he explained to Jacob. Jacob raised a brow.

"Says who?" Jacob asked.

"My blushing bride," Chuck said between clenched teeth.

Jacob arched a brow. "Ahh."

"We've been married for two hours, and she's already running things. I should've married some one-eyed, ass-less, mute, blind and rotting girl." Chuck fumed quietly to Jacob.

"I'm sure we could've found someone with all of those specifications." Jacob stated and Chuck glared at him.

Then Blair re-entered the reception. Chuck could tell by either the way the room changed when she was around, or by how other women started twittering around her.

"Unfortunately, you have married a two-eyed, talkative, and well shaped girl, so therefore now you must dance with her." Jacob pushed Chuck towards Blair's form; she walked with a set mouth and purpose in her eyes.

Chuck knew instantly that she wanted to talk. Or complain about something. Or demand something of him.

"We need to talk," she snapped at him, but before she could say anything else _their_ song had started and he took her arms, swaying her back and forth.

"Bass, what are you doing – listen to me," she hissed.

"Do try to look in love, Blair," he snapped. Her nostrils flared, and she glared at him. "No, no – softer. Get the glow back."

He was sure she would smack him, and he was enjoying every bit of her discomfort.

"I never had a glow," she said but plastered a smile on her face. "The only glow I'll get is when I drop-kick Creepy Clara back to whatever planet those pants she's wearing came from."

Chuck let out a laugh, and people looked on amused as the happy couple danced gently on the dance floor.

"And to think many thought you were now reformed, above fashion-criticism, moral, and humble," he teased, his eyes shining playfully.

This melted her stomach, and she cursed internally. She was entirely too in love with him. She had never agreed to fall into such a deep psychosis. She'd have to have a talk with her internal ramblings.

"Psycho bitch talk, please – she _cornered_ me on the stables and commented on my dress!" She hissed.

Chuck raised a brow on her. "What did she say?"

"I cut up your first gown, but this one looks just lovely on you – aren't you happy I did it?" She quipped, and he chuckled. She swatted him on his shoulder, and he turned her quickly, dipping her and making her yelp.

"You're distracted. You used to be a better dancer," he noted.

"I was just _harassed_, I hope you find it this deliciously funny when you find me one morning all cut up and tossed on _you_," she snapped, eyes narrowed.

The very thought of her dead sent this awful wave of nausea through him, and he clenched his teeth. Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her closer – more intimate.

Her eyes met his when he did this, and the entire Clara conversation was forgotten. It suddenly dawned on them that as their flirtatious banter continued, so did the minutes and the hours – all leading up to the eventual consummation of their love.

Or non-love.

----------

She would never admit it to anyone, but her hands were shaking when Dorota and Polly finally took her up to her room. _Their_ room. Dorota's eyes were wide and worried, brimming with tears for Blair's position.

"I'll be fine," she whispered to her, holding on to her hand and nodding.

Polly helped her sit on her chaise and showed her how to remove the dress without ripping it. Blair thanked her, and she left them, leaving Dorota facing her.

"I'm not afraid," Blair told her.

Dorota nodded. "You love him."

"I do," Blair replied, then looked downward. "I'll just pretend."

"Pretend what, Miss Blair?" Dorota asked her.

"That he loves me, too," Blair said softly, arranging her veil around her.

Dorota finally left, her eyes downcast and saddened. The moment she closed the door behind her, her heart breaking for her Blair as she sat silently on the chaise, she stared at Jacob, who was staring back at.

"Miss Dorota."

Dorota's nostrils flared. "He be good to my Blair!" She snapped at him.

Jacob couldn't help but nod. "She better be good to my Chuck."

Dorota nodded, still angry at him. "Then she ready."

Jacob gulped and watched her walk away, stifling sobs against her handkerchief. He straightened out his suit and walked to Chuck's room. He knocked on the large mahogany door.

"Come in." Chuck's voice was heard from the other side and Jacob entered.

Jacob closed the door behind him and cleared his throat.

"She's ready," he told Chuck, who had lost his tuxedo jacket and stood there with a scotch on his hand. Chuck gulped back the scotch. His hair was a rambled mess – probably a result of endless rhythmic raking from his hands.

Jacob watched him, then excused himself and closed the door behind him.

Chuck stared resolutely at their connecting doors and glared at no one in particular. He could do this. Hell, he'd wanted to have sex with Blair since he became aware of what sex was. Once he had her, she was a bit addicting. An addiction that hadn't been fed in years. He was like a trembling addict, about to get a hit and completely out of his goddamn mind.

He downed another glass of scotch and then set the glass down with purpose.

_She was ready._

Like a little white lamb about to be sacrificed type of ready. He groaned and truly held back the terrible need to puke. Because that is what he felt. He felt nauseous.

Truly and completely nauseous.

He counted to twenty three, and then finally decided to go to her. She had agreed to this entire mess of theirs. He wasn't taking advantage of her, and she had confessed she wasn't marrying him for the money. If it wasn't for the moment, his bet was on gratitude. The old Blair Waldorf wouldn't love him because he wasn't Nathaniel, and the new one wouldn't love him because she thought he was. All heroic and noble. Made him sick. Hence the nausea. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was about to solidify his marriage to the one woman he had always loved. No. It wasn't that.

He quietly walked to their hallway – the same infamous hallway where she'd been unable to keep her hands off him one moment and was shoving him around the next. The make-up-your-mind hallway. That bitch of a place.

His steps echoed on the wooden floor.

Thud. Tap. Thud. Tap.

Sending her warnings. Telling her he was coming.

He slowly knocked on her door. It was the least he could do.

"Come in." Her words were soft on the other side, and he gulped.

This was it. She was letting him in.

He slowly opened the door and found her sitting on her wedding gown, the veil still framing her face – like a lost Victorian doll with her thick brown curls around her.

His eyes zoomed in on her necklace. His necklace. Their necklace.

He swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but he had no words. The room was alit with the soft glow of candles and he dimly noticed that the bed had coral petals on the ivory silk sheets.

She slowly raised her head and her eyes met his. He saw her take a deep breath and let it out.

"Come here," she said quietly and, without noticing, he went.

----------

To be continued


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 15** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_I'd rather have the theme of you  
__To thread my nights and days,  
__I'd rather have the dream of you  
__With faint stars glowing,  
__I'd rather have the want of you,  
__The rich, elusive taunt of you  
__Forever and forever and forever un-confessed  
__Than claim the alien comfort  
__Of any other's breast."  
__Angela Morgan_

He wasn't particularly sure if he had heard her correctly. He thought he heard her say '_Come here,'_ but this was Blair Waldorf, and he wasn't entirely sure if that was something she would say. He supposed a person could change.

"Chuck…" Her voice was soft in the room, and he shook himself out of his reverie.

She looked so stunning, sitting there by the light of the fireplace, dressed in this beautiful gown with the veil serving as a halo.

She was a goddess. His very own Queen of the goddesses. Slowly, he walked to her and reached for her hand. She quickly gave it to him, her eyes wide and questioning.

He pulled her up so that they were facing one another.

"You're a goddess, Blair," he whispered and, before he was able to react, his little goddess was pulling him down, devouring his lips. And he felt it – he felt her need, her insatiable need, her thirsty need. How long since a man had touched her? How very long?

Without thinking any more, he reached down and picked her up, her dress covering both of them, their eyes never leaving one another. She reached out and kissed him once more, pulling him closer with her hands around his neck and her breasts pressing to his chest as she turned in his arms.

He felt himself harden instantly at the feel of her small body all over him, despite the yards of cloth she was covered in. He walked her to her bed and softly placed her down on the silken sheets, the flowers surrounding her form as if she were a glowing angel. Their lips unlocked for a moment as he stared down at her.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice raspy and needy. A small smile flickered across her lips and, before he knew it, she had grabbed his collar and was pulling him down.

Blair was pretty sure this was how she had always imagined her wedding night would be. Her in a stunning gown, sitting by the soft fire as her husband entered the room wearing black pants, a white shirt and a lusty stare. The look in his eyes flushed her hot and cold until she felt she wasn't herself but a girl watching someone else's' movie. Hadn't she given up on these dreams long ago? Hadn't she given in to her life of poverty and disillusion?

Yet here she was, completely in love with her husband and about to consummate their marriage. The feel of his body on top of hers was absolutely divine – like she had been found. Like she'd made it home. She arched into him despite her large dress and somehow wished she had taken it off beforehand. His hands were skimming up and down her bodice, touching the fine silk of her dress and squeezing when appropriate as his lips never left hers.

"Help me," she breathed out, pulling away from him and sitting up, turning away from him so he could unzip her. His nimble hands found the long ivory zipper and slowly, ever so seductively, he zipped her down. Pausing to taste the skin of her back, pausing to kiss and touch the velvety blonde hairs she had growing all over her body. Small, diminutive things that he loved feeling under his fingers.

They both looked down when the enormous dress dropped to the floor, leaving her in her in her bridal underwear, which consisted of a vintage Dior corset and a white thong.

His mouth watered. She reached up and removed the band from her head that held the veil in place and dropped it on the dress. She stepped out of the skirt, and he took her hand, pulling her to him, kissing her collarbone as his left hand buried itself in her hair and unpinned it deftly.

Her warm brown waves flowed down and rested on her shoulders. Her eyes met his, and he slowly buried the other hand in her hair and pulled her towards him, kissing her temple as she sighed.

"Chuck…" she whimpered and, before she could say anything else, he had nearly thrown her on the bed. Visions of their first time together filled her mind once more. The desperate need, moments of tenderness, shifting of moods from steamy and sexy to soft and gentle, eyes that burned into one another.

When he finally entered her, both of them let out a cry of relief because it had been so very long since they had been in one another. Not one word was spoken as their passion took its own life and, before she knew it, she was crying out his name, grasping the dent in his back. Her milky thighs were wrapped around his torso and his knees were bruised from the pounding motion he repeated over and over. God, she felt fantastic! Warm, always warm, and little and perfect.

He paused a minute to catch his breath after he had climaxed inside of her, his face and mouth resting on her neck. As her own breathing became regular, she held on to his head, running her small fingers through his hair and pausing to kiss his forehead.

The butterflies.

The kryptonite.

Everything was taking over him and, before he knew it, he was hard once more, and they began their cycle again. This time, he flipped her over and she rode him without shame.

Hours later, she lay back on the bed as he walked naked to the fireplace and threw another log into the dying fire. Her skin had begun to get goose bumps – lying on a bed completely naked did that to a girl. He smirked when he observed her on the bed, her lids closed and a smile plastered on her face.

He climbed up from the foot of the bed and bent down to kiss her knees. He heard her gasp a little and saw her knee twitched. He held it in place, running the tip of his finger over it and kissing it every so often.

His tongue flicked out and ran up her knee to her upper inner thigh, and by now she was moaning and arching up.

"Insatiable," he murmured, still smirking. She arched off the bed, opening herself up for him. Gladly, he found her mound and suckled her until she was crying out with no shame whatsoever.

He was asleep now, on his stomach, his body completely relaxed. She propped up on her elbow and watched him sleep. Her hand traced small patterns on his shoulder as he breathed in and out.

The night had been magical, sexy, and exhausting. They'd not left each other's side and continued their love making until the sun began peeking out from behind the curtains. There had been moments when she had seen _something_ in his eyes – something more than lust. Maybe trust or commitment. She had seen it before in his eyes, in their younger years, but she could not name it now. She dared not.

So she contented herself by playing with his skin, making him twitch in his sleep and murmur things.

"I love you, Chuck Bass," she whispered to him – ever so delicately and low, and he didn't even move. He continued his rhythmic breathing, and she watched.

--------

When he woke, he found her draped over him on her stomach, completely oblivious to the world around her. Her dark hair was a tangled mess – a testimony of their passionate night. Her lips were still swollen, and she had a content smile on her face.

She'd cried out his name that night – all night long, to be exact. As a man, it left a soft, pleasant, proud feeling inside of him. He caressed her delicate skin, by the side of her breast and where her arm rested. She was made of carved and polished ivory; her entire skin was peppered with small little hazelnut freckles that he delighted in finding and laying claim to.

She murmured something and buried her face in his chest, pulling a smile from his lips.

His wife.

She was all his.

"I love you, Blair… Waldorf-_Bass_," He smirked a bit.

She didn't stir, just continued with her breathing and her small smiles of satisfaction.

Taking her hand and kissing the palm, he slowly extracted himself from her arms, covering her shivering body up with the quilt and, throwing one last log on the fire, he grabbed his clothes and went down his hallway.

This was it. This is when the real test began. The new game. How long would he be able to go through without touching his blushing and perfect wife? How long before he would snap and take her in the stables, in the kitchens, anyplace where he could prop her up. She had intoxicated him, and he was pretty sure he would never recover.

He took an angry bath and, by the time Jacob came to read him his morning report, he had enough sense to ignore the man's questioning eyes. Apparently Jacob had never imagined he would find Chuck in his own room.

"The wedding is over, Jacob – we talk business from now on," Chuck announced, taking the reports from him and pouring scotch into his coffee.

"Of course, sir," he replied, nodding, but still worried.

---------

When she woke to find him gone, her heart fell down to the bottom of her toes. He had left. Sneaked out in the early morning as she slept peacefully thinking he was cherishing her. It was an abrupt ending to the night they'd shared. She quickly walked to the bathroom and puked.

She stared at the toilet, her breathing ragged and uneven. She felt sick to her stomach. Sicker than she'd felt in years. As she stared at the mess in the water, she panicked, quickly rinsing her mouth. Last time she had spiraled down, she had nearly lost her life. She had lost the ability to conceive.

Conceive.

Chuck had said he didn't want children, but Blair knew men, and she knew she had to tell him eventually. Tell him when his eyes didn't affect her. That was her new purpose in life: to live like Chuck didn't affect her. She was certain he would stay away from her now that they were married and had consummated the marriage. It was time for her to do her duty – the duty she had agreed to. To be the perfect wife, the lady of the house.

She took a deep, shuddering breath and cleansed herself under a hot shower.

When Dorota finally came to the room, she was almost dressed and poised.

"The wedding is over now, Dorota – we have things to attend to," she explained.

Dorota's wide eyes never left her small form. "Yes, Miss Blair."

-------

Concentrating on everything that was not Blair was downright killing him. Someone as well just shoot him. He would be walking, and he would hear her voice, talking to her mother, talking to Ruby – talking to the staff and ordering them around. He was pathetic. He would hide behind pillars and listen to her voice until Jacob found him, and he would have to make up some bullshit excuse as to why he was smiling against a pillar as she informed the cook of the difference between low-fat sour cream and non-fat sour cream. Jacob didn't believe him, of course.

Ruby followed Blair everywhere, and Chuck was having a hard time cornering Blair by herself in order to talk to her. Not that he wanted to talk to her, but the skirts and dresses she wore around the house were making it hard for him to think about anything other than their wedding night. Her riding gear didn't help, either. She looked simply irresistible in those tight pants that accentuated her ass. Christ! He got hard just thinking about it!

So he decided to immerse himself in work. It didn't help when Blair wandered into his study (yes, with Ruby trailing behind her) and looked over the papers on his desk.

"I though I would be involved," she demanded, hands on her hips. Next to her Ruby imitated her pose. Chuck rolled his internal eye.

"Boring stuff," he replied.

Her eyes narrowed, and he decided she was prettier when annoyed.

"I'd like to be the judge of that, _husband_," she snapped.

"Fine. Come see," he waved her over, and she walked around his desk, leaning into the papers filled with endless excel spreadsheets and numbers. Her brows furrowed, and he smirked.

"What is it?" Ruby piped in, her own face scrunched up as she peered over the papers.

"Nothing," Blair snapped and glared at Chuck. He smiled indulgently.

"Can you read me the poem you promised, Lady Blair?" Ruby asked, and Chuck nearly choked at Blair's new nickname.

Blair, however, seemed to bask in it. "Of course."

Ruby smiled happily at Chuck, who looked confused.

"We need keys to the private library," Blair informed him.

Chuck cocked a brow. "The _private_ library?"

"Yes, the one behind the glass that I can't get to. _That_ one," Blair snapped.

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "Those are priceless."

"Like your bride's happiness?" She asked, sweetly with bating eyelashes. He grunted and took a shiny silver key out of his desk, handing it over to her outstretched hand.

She smiled back at him and quickly took Ruby's hand as they bounced out of his office. He stared at them, her perfume intoxicating him until he thought he would pass out. She was going to kill him.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he followed them, of course – intent on finding out exactly what Blair had promised the overly excited Ruby.

He found them in the 'Room of Possibilities' – as Blair had named it. Blair was sitting by the fireplace, and Ruby was cuddled up next to her, looking over an old book Blair was reading out of. Eleanor sat on a thick chair, staring off into the fire with Cat curled on her lap, listening to Blair while Dorota seemed to be knitting something.

"Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred, He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there…" Ruby's eyes were wide as Blair continued. "But the landlord's black-eyed daughter-- Bess, the landlord's daughter-- Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair."

Ruby smiled happily along with Blair. Blair turned the page as he leaned back and studied her profile from the doorway.

""One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light," Blair continued the poem, and Chuck couldn't help but smile at the way Ruby became more and more enchanted with the story.

"They're in love!" Ruby said excitedly, and Eleanor shushed her.

"Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way,"" Blair emphasized, and Chuck remembered how she would read Romeo & Juliet to Nathaniel and himself as they stood bored and annoyed as children.

By the time the poem ended (five pages later), Ruby was in tears.

"But why did she have to die?" She sobbed. Blair looked at a loss. She for one, loved tragic stories. They always left much more of an impact.

"And then _he_ died!" Ruby sobbed.

"But they are together now – both in heaven," Blair tried to appease her.

"I suggest you read her happier poems," Chuck said, finally announcing his presence and startling Blair and Ruby.

"How long have you been there?" Blair demanded, standing up and checking her hair with her hand. He smiled.

"Long enough," he nodded.

"The entire time," Eleanor put in, her eyes not leaving the fireplace.

Blair huffed and placed the old book on the shelf, closing the glass behind it.

"Do you know any happy ones, Lord Bass?" Ruby asked, walking to him, and that was when he noticed she was dressing just like Blair with little headbands and matching skirts.

"Poets are sad creatures – they're entirely too depressed with life, so they write of love lost, love gained, and love destroyed," Chuck told her. "If you ask me, love shouldn't bring you to tears."

Ruby thought about this for a moment and smiled at him. "Like you and Lady Blair."

Blair quickly stepped forward and grabbed the girl. "Come, let's go riding like I promised we would."

Blair tossed Chuck a look over her shoulder. He cursed quietly as she left and was stunned to find Dorota staring at him.

"You should tell her," she snapped at him, angrily. Chuck turned around and went to find his most aged scotch.

Jacob was right, that maid talked entirely too much.

--------

Blair walked down the stairs in full riding gear and was surprised to find Chuck also there, listening to Ruby's incessant chatter. She'd been trying to avoid him since their wedding night. They've been married now five weeks and had hardly exchanged words. They had bumped into one another four times exactly.

Once during dinner, once while riding, once exiting their rooms and, of course, the poem incident that had just occurred. She wasn't sure what bothered her more. The fact that she kept coming up with scenarios in her head for them to meet, or that fact that when they actually happened, she became a mess and didn't know what to say.

Being in love with Chuck Bass was obviously detrimental to her health. She had less appetite, she would think over and over about their wedding night, when they had touched without repercussions. At times she would dream that he entered her room, and they would confess their feelings and make love for days until Dorota and Jacob pounded down the door. She was horny and annoyed and had to muffle her moans at night since he slept right next to her.

But those were dreams.

The war was coming closer and closer. The doctor had left the week of their marriage, and the village was now facing the impending winter with no doctor and limited supplies.

Chuck had done his best to ensure there would be enough food for everyone – the day they had bumped into each other while riding, he had showed her the greenhouses where wheat and vegetables were grown and the cattle was being fattened for the cold.

She had observed him walking around with his long black coat flapping around him as he explained the system he had devised in order to provide enough food for the village. He didn't know it, but he had saved these people. If the whole world were torn to shreds, these people would remain. The village was completely self-sufficient, except for a few things that were brought in from the exterior – but that mostly consisted of clothing, books, and toys for the children.

When Blair made it to the bottom of the stairs, she swallowed as he met her eyes.

"Are you going to join us?" She asked him, and he gave her his trademark smirk that always infuriated her.

"Oh, yes! Do join us, Lord Bass!" Ruby insisted, looking adorable in her own matching pants and boots.

"I never refuse a lady," he commented.

"Wiser words were never spoken," Blair snipped and avoided his eyes as she led them towards the stables.

Blair always watched out for Clara because the woman was like a bad seed that continued to pop up every so often. Blair was determined to squish her.

Chuck lifted Ruby and set her in front of him as they mounted their horses, and Ruby looked at Blair happily. They galloped towards Jonas' home – which was Blair's favorite spot, and Chuck knew it. The ride shut Ruby up for a while as the sharp, cold wind hit them. The temperatures were dropping and fast; it was no higher than 34 degrees Fahrenheit that day. The sun was lost behind clouds, and the entire world seemed sad.

"It's cold," Ruby complained.

"Let's see if we can get Jonas to fix you some of his hot cocoa," Chuck suggested, and she nodded, her teeth chattering despite her heavy coat and gloves. Blair agreed wholeheartedly with her as her own fingers were rather numb.

As Jonas' cabin became visible, Ruby felt revived and began chattering happily about anything and everything.

But Jonas didn't come out to greet them, which he usually did, and Chuck instantly found this strange.

"Jonas!" He cried out. Blair looked around, moving Hera around Jonas' now dormant garden.

"Mr. Jonas!" Ruby stated, imitating Chuck.

"Mr. Bass!"

Both Blair and Chuck turned sharply behind them to find Jonas galloping fast on his own horse. He was out of breath and looked very upset.

"Mr. Bass!" He cried, coming towards them. Chuck urged his horse towards the man, and Blair followed.

When they met half way Jonas was out of breath – his breath making white clouds around him.

"Intruders, sir – up the west side!" He said.

Blair looked at Chuck, alarmed. Chuck looked downright angry and upset.

"How many?" He demanded.

"About ten, on horse and with guns," Jonas explained.

Chuck quickly reacted, pulling Ruby off his horse and placing her deftly behind Blair as the girls looked at him in confusion.

"Chuck –"

"Get to the house, stay in – you hear? Lock yourselves in," he ordered, leaving no room to argue. "Tell Jacob what's happening."

Chuck turned to Jonas. "Get me a gun." And the man nodded, trotting to his house. Blair looked at Chuck with frightened as Ruby whimpered behind her.

"What's happening?" Blair demanded, her own heart beating at a frightful pace.

"Go!" And with that, he smacked the back of her horse, sending Hera running forward. Blair yelped and looked behind her as Jonas threw Chuck a long rifle and the two rode the opposite way.

Blair made it to the house, out of breath as she dismounted the horse, angry at finding Clara lounging outside.

"Jacob!" She called out. "Call Jacob!"

"Don't yell at me –"

"Get him, or I swear to God it'll be your last day in this village," Blair hissed at her.

Clara met her eyes angrily and stomped inside. Blair jumped off the horse and took Ruby down, handing the horse to Mr. Carter, who came running at the commotion.

Jacob was bouncing down the stairs by the time she turned around, with Clara following close at his heels.

"Intruders, up the West side – Chuck and Jonas have gone after them!" Blair said, out of breath, fear pumping in and out of her. Clara's eyes widened.

"With guns?" Jacob demanded.

"Y-yes. And horses," Blair explained.

"Fuck," Jacob hissed, then turned to Mr. Carter. "Get everyone to the safe room!"

But Clara had pushed past him and jumped on her horse.

"Clara!" Jacob cried out. But Clara urged her horse.

"He said to stay in the house!" Blair demanded of her.

Clara pushed her off and galloped away.

Blair turned to Jacob, alarmed. "C'mon!" He took her elbow and dragged her into the house. Once in the house, it seemed like everything had come alive. Dorota was being led down the stairs by a maid, and her mother trailed behind with Polly at her heals.

Blair thought she imagined it, but Jacob and Dorota's eyes met briefly, and then he turned to Blair.

"This way!" Jacob shouted at them all.

They seemed to be followed by the entire house staff as they made it down a hallways that Blair had not explored. He opened the door and went down what seemed to be a basement. Blair followed Jacob, clutching her mother's shaking hand as they made it down some stairs and, before Blair knew it, they were surrounded by ancient stone.

"What is this place?" She demanded as Jacob lit a torch.

"We're in the castle now. Mr. Bass built the passage to this safe room. It's the castle's old dungeons," he explained as everyone – all twenty people or so – huddled in the large and dingy place.

"What do we do now?" She asked, her mind racing as to what exactly Chuck thought he was going to accomplish with one shotgun against ten armed men.

"We wait until it's safe," Jacob said, his eyes wide.

"Has this happened before?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Has anyone ever been hurt?" She demanded, angry at not being informed of the real dangers found in this paradise.

Jacob was silent, but his hard expression said more than enough.

-------

If you asked Blair years later about the most agonizing time in her life, she would say it was those forty-three minutes. There, in the damp darkness, shivering and huddled with her mother as Ruby cried on Polly's shoulder and Jacob and Dorota did odd things with their eyes – yes. It was definitely the most agonizing thing she'd had to endure. Not knowing what the hell Chuck was doing up there, riding around with a rifle like some cowboy. God! She should've gone after him. She should've! Clara was out there – with him while she, _his_ _wife,_ was down here like some damsel in distress!

She fumed for those forty-three minutes.

Then, suddenly, the lock behind the door was tugged opened, and Blair held her breath. The entire room went silent and, from behind the door, Jonas' head appeared, shaken.

His eyes locked directly with Blair's. "Come."

Blair scrambled up, followed by Jacob. Ruby tried to follow, but Polly held her down despite her protest. Blair's heart was beating a mile a minute as she pushed her way through the staff and up the door. Fear was overtaking her. She swore to God that if that Chuck Basstard had left her a widow, she would hunt him down and make him pay!

After she cried over his grave.

But he wasn't dead – that was too awful. She couldn't handle that now. Jonas quickly took her arm and led her up to the door. She saw Chuck slowly dismounting his horse and giving orders the other men. She noticed he looked pale and cold. Clara, that bitch, was trailing after him with a weapon of her own.

She was just so very relieved to see him alive that she decided to ignore Clara the gnome and focus on her husband who was alive and –

Chuck turned to her, and she instantly noticed how pale he was, red spots under his sunken eyes. She walked to him.

"Chuck –" She said, her brows furrowed. He collapsed right on her, making her scream and shout.

"I told him not to ride the fucking horse!" Jonas cried, helping Chuck off a shaken Blair.

"Oh, my God!" Blair cried when Chuck's coat flapped opened to reveal the entire front part of his shirt soaked in deep dark blood. So dark it was almost black. And it kept flowing.

"He got shot twice, he said he was fine –" Jonas explained.

"Chuck!" Blair cried, touching his face. His eyes opened slightly, and he attempted to smirk but failed miserably, making it look instead like a grimace.

"You ok?" He garbled, and his eyes rolled back.

--------

To be continued


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 16** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_Dance me into the night  
__Underneath the moon shining so bright  
__Let the dark waltz begin  
__Oh let me wheel - let me spin  
__Let it take me again  
__Turning me into the light."  
__Hayley Westernra, The Dark Waltz_

There was little Blair could do at that moment, other than scream and cry, but she held herself back because her husband, the one man she loved, was bleeding to death before her.

"Bring him to his room!" She demanded of the men around her, who seemed to be frozen, staring at the unconscious Chuck. Jonas jumped forward and, with the help of Mr. Grant and Jacob, picked Chuck up and started up the stairs with him. There was blood everywhere as they dragged him into the house. Blair herself was covered in it.

That's when Ruby came running out to check on them, despite Polly crying out behind her, and she gasped, her little eyes wide as she saw Chuck.

"Get her out of here!" Blair screamed at Polly, who seemed frozen herself. "Get her out, don't let her see!"

Polly reacted and shook herself out of her reverie, pulling Ruby, who was now crying, back into the safe room.

"Get Dorota!" Blair shouted at her.

Chuck's blood trailed all through the stairs as they hefted him up and into his room. As soon as they deposited him on the bed, Jonas grabbed a sheet and pressed it into the wounds on his chest. Before Blair could even check on Chuck, she was pushed back by a sobbing Clara, who grabbed at Chuck.

Blair simply saw red, so she grabbed the girl by her hair and yanked her back with all of her strength. She pulled her off her husband and shoved her back. "Get her out!" She demanded of Mr. Grant, who was staring wide-eyed at Blair. "Now!" The man reacted and grabbed the struggling Clara, who was now calling Blair every name she could imagine.

"You don't even love him, you fucking bitch!"

And she was dragged out. Blair ignored her and turned back to Chuck, who was murmuring things as Jonas continued pressing the sheets to his chest.

"Is there even a nurse in this village?" She demanded, her own voice shaky and her hands trembling.

Jonas' face was hard, and Jacob shook his head.

Dorota burst through the door at that moment, and Blair let out a sigh of relief. Everything would be ok, Dorota was here. Dorota was here.

"No Doctor?" She asked, and Blair's eyes filled with tears as Chuck continued bleeding and becoming more and more pale.

"I-I took a bullet out once… In a man's leg," Jonas confessed. "While I was in the Navy – I think I can do it."

Blair's eyes met his, and she nodded. "Lets take off his clothes."

Dorota turned to Jacob. "Bring water, a lot of water, and towels."

Jacob looked pale himself before he threw one worried glance at Chuck and shuffled off. Blair helped Jonas cut Chuck's clothes off, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Chuck was shaking now; his body was becoming cold and pale.

"More fire," Blair said to Mr. Grant, and a man stoked the fireplace so that it became warm inside of the room. Blair took off her jacket and pulled up her sleeves. Dorota followed her lead.

Jacob came back with a maid who helped the doctor during childbirths. The girl's name was Susana, and she looked downright fierce. Straight nose and chin and a no-nonsense attitude. She carried some medical equipment that the doctor had left behind with her.

A scalpel, some type of scary tongs, some scissors, a long pair of tweezers, and a basin filled with alcohol. She dropped all the utensils in it to disinfect them. She also pulled out a small bag that contained some needles and vials.

"He may need a blood transfusion; he's lost a lot of blood," she commented, and Jonas agreed. Blair looked on worriedly.

"Blood type?" She asked Jacob, who was arranging a dozen white towels next to a water bucket.

The man looked like he was about to pass out. "O-O negative. Like me."

"Oh, good," Susana said, and Jacob looked at the needles apprehensively. Blair moved around Chuck until she was sitting by this head, his head on her lap as Jonas and Susana moved over his chest. Jonas slowly pulled back the cloth he had been holding to Chuck's chest, and Blair pressed her lips together when she saw the two gaping wounds.

Chuck's breathing became irregular ,and Blair softly caressed his face and hair as Jonas went about cleaning the area around the wound. Once the area was cleaned, leaving behind two little holes that continued excreting black blood from them, the mood changed and everyone but Blair, Susana, Jonas, Dorota, and Jacob left the room.

Blair swallowed when Dorota handed Jonas a scalpel. Her small hands dug into his hair in anticipation. As if it was happening to her. That was when Chuck woke.

"Blair?"

Blair instantly reacted to his voice, bringing her face to his line of vision.

"I'm here." Her voice was shaky.

"What's happening?" He asked.

Susana quickly took a needle and stuck it in a vial.

"Shh…." Blair ran her hands over his hair as he tried to lift his hand to her but failed, letting out a yell and arching off the bed. "Give him something!" Blair cried, her eyes wide and worried.

Susana deftly stuck the needle into the arm Jonas was holding down, and Chuck's eyes met Blair's for a moment before closing.

"It's going to be ok," she whispered to him and, at that moment, she wandered if this was the last conversation she would have with him. That fear gripped her heart, and she began to beg whoever listened up there to bring him back to her. She swore she would tell him how she felt. She swore she would. Even if he rejected her. Even if he hated her.

She bent down and pressed her lips to his temple as Jonas got to work. He sliced Chuck's chest opened and pulling out he bullet as Chuck moaned softly in his sleep. She closed her eyes and continued hoping he would make it.

By the time they had managed to remove the second bullet, it was a few hours later, and they were all tired, achy, and moody.

"I don't know how to sew," Susan explained, and Jonas shook his head.

"I do," Dorota said loudly, and Blair met her eyes. Her brave maid took a deep breath and walked forward, meeting Blair's eyes as tears of gratitude emerged from Blair's eyes.

Susana nodded and brought her a needle and thread and, as Jonas dabbed the wound that was still bleeding, Dorota began sewing up Blair's husband, who was barely hanging on to his life. It was nearly an hour later by the time the shaky Dorota finished the job. They re-cleaned the wound and told Blair she needed to clean it again once a day to prevent infection. Now Chuck had two ugly scars on his chest, but she didn't care. He was still breathing and making little unhappy noises in his drug-induced sleep.

All together they helped wrap thick gauze over his chest until he was snuggled in white. While the men lifted his body off the bed, the women quickly changed the sheets to remove all the bloody ones. Once Chuck was re-settled on the clean sheets and sleeping, Dorota brought her a change of clothes, which Blair took gratefully as Jacob reluctantly offered his arm for the beginning of the transfusion.

He let out a loud yelp when no-nonsense Susana stuck him with the large needle.

By the time Blair emerged changed, Susan had hooked both Chuck and Jacob up, and while Chuck was passed out, Jacob looked like he might just faint alongside him.

"You very brave, Mr. Jacob," Dorota told him, beaming. Jacob just swallowed and continued drinking his grape juice.

"He'll most likely develop a fever," Jonas told her as he leaned against the bed post.

Blair nodded. "Ill stay up – you get some rest."

Jonas studied her. "You ok?"

Blair tucked her hair behind her ear and met his eyes. "I will be."

The older man nodded and walked out once Susana finished the transfusion. As Susana packed up the things with the help of Mr. Grant, Dorota turned weary eyes to her.

"I take Mr. Jacob to his room," she told her. Blair peered at Jacob, who looked he needed someone to carry him.

"Of course," Blair said with a hidden smile, watching the two of them slowly make it out of the room.

Blair was left with a sleeping Chuck. She slowly climbed into the bed with him and curled herself against his body, watching him sleep. His face was no longer as pale as it had been when they had originally deposited him on the bed, and for that she was grateful. He had scared her to death, lying there pale and moaning. She was sure he would die, sure of it. His lids were no longer a purple shade but a healthy pink one, and his fingers would twitch every so often. She reached and took his hand in hers, drawing slow circles on his palm and bringing his hand to her mouth, kissing his cold fingers.

She reached down and pulled the covers up, warming him. She curled up closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Just being near him set her at ease. He hadn't developed a fever just yet, and Susana had left Blair a shot of morphine in case he needed it, which Blair was sure he would once he woke.

--------

He felt an overwhelming pressure on his chest the moment he started to stir. It felt like someone had used his chest as a cutting board. He groaned and opened his eyes, trying to peer down.

But a bushel of brown curls covered his vision. He swallowed. Was Blair on him? Had they gotten drunk? Shit… He couldn't remember. He tried to move, but a searing pain went up his chest and took over him. He let out a low moan loud enough to wake Blair, who instantly sat up, looming over him.

"What the fuck…" he hissed, his eyes tightly shut as he clenched and unclenched his hands. Her hands were on his face, pushing his hair back.

"Shit, you have a fever," she said quietly.

"Blair, what the hell happened?" He demanded, reaching out and grabbing her hand.

Her eyes were wide as she swallowed and licked her lips. "You were shot. Twice. We had to take the bullets out."

He lay back, panting and grimacing. "Yeah… Out in the field by the cattle pen."

"Do you remember?" She asked him, working on something over the night table. He tried to look, but the pain in his chest was unbearable. He panted.

"Clara…" She stiffened next to him and looked him over. "… She was riding and almost got… Fuck." He closed his eyes tightly as the burning took over him but before he knew it, she had swabbed the inside of his elbow and had plunged a needle in. He opened his eyes and looked over at her.

"Morphine," she said by way of explanation and, in mere seconds, he felt the lovely numbness take over him. She extracted the needle and swabbed him once more.

He sighed, relaxing against the pillows and taking a breath. He felt exhausted and sleepy, like he could sleep for a week. He felt her hand on his forehead once more and then a cool cloth. He met her eyes.

"Why are you here?" He said softly, trying to see what he could decipher from her face, but it was blank.

"I married you, I don't know if you remember that," she joked.

He swallowed. "No… Why are you here, in this room, with me?"

The cool cloth felt fabulous on his neck. She refused to meet his eyes, and he instantly noticed.

"I'm your wife… This is what wives do," she said quietly, dipping the washcloth in a water basin and repeating her actions. He reached up and grabbed her hand, and then did something daring. Something he wouldn't have done if he hadn't been pumped full of morphine. He kissed the back of her hand, and her eyes widened.

"Thank you," he whispered before sleep took over him and his lids slid closed.

Blair was stock still, her hand still in his – entirely too close to his lips, feeling the soft lull of his breath against her skin.

She bit her lip, still staring at him, then leaned forward and kissed him, touching his face and assuring herself that he was ok. God, she loved him. Loved him like one would dream of loving someone. Loving him more than she loved herself, which was a strange and horribly frightening feeling, because it meant that losing him would kill her.

He mumbled in his sleep, and she placed the cool cloth on his forehead, pressing it there slightly. She took a deep breath and resumed her position next to him, preparing herself for a restless night.

-------

He woke four more times during the night, but they hardly conversed. It was more her giving him water because he was incredibly thirsty and helping him shift because he was uncomfortable.

This time, she woke before him rather than being woken up by him. She woke to find that his fever had broken, and he was looking healthier by the minute. So she slid out of the bed and went looking for Dorota. She found her already coming to Chuck's room with a breakfast tray.

Blair ushered her in and between the two of them they clothed the sleeping Chuck in loose pants and a t-shirt. He woke slightly, but his head had rolled back and he began snoring.

"You tired," Dorota commented, and Blair nodded, pulling her hair back in a loose pony tail. She grabbed some toast and ate quietly as she continued watching Chuck sleep.

"He be fine, Miss Blair. Strong man, your husband," Dorota assured her.

"How's Jacob?" Blair asked her, and she instantly noticed that her Dorota flushed a furious pink.

Blair's mouth fell opened.

"He fine." Dorota walked around, picking up clothing from the floor, studiously avoiding her eyes.

"Dorota…" Blair said carefully. "Do you and Jacob have anything going on?"

Dorota's back shot straight, and she glared at Blair.

"Oh, my God, you do!" Blair tried not to smile, but she couldn't help it – it was a welcome distraction from the night she'd had.

"I do not!" Dorota snapped and huffed out, still pink as Blair had ever seen her.

Blair turned to look at Chuck's immobile body. "I think your guy is getting it on with my girl."

When Jonas and Jacob finally came, Jacob agreed to stay with Chuck while Jonas showed her where Clara was. Blair had a few things to talk about with the girl, and she was done with threats. It was time for action.

"You didn't see what happened?" She asked Jonas, and the man shook his head.

"I just saw as he rode, already shot."

Blair nodded as he opened a closet with a key. She took a deep breath and stepped back to find Clara crouched in the corner of the room, amidst brooms and buckets.

Blair stepped in, making the girl scurry back. Jonas turned on another light, and the light enveloped the room, making Clara blink as she adjusted to the change. She looked at Blair.

"Is he dead?" She asked, her voice low and raspy. Tears tracks were dried and being re-wet before Blair's eyes on the girl's plump cheeks.

Blair stood before her.

"No. He's still alive," she snapped. "What the hell happened out there?"

Clara rubbed her cheeks, trying to wipe her tears away, as she looked ahead. Her hair was in disarray, her jeans were torn, and she still wore her heavy snow coat, which was stained with blood from where she had thrown herself on top of Chuck.

"I went to help. I didn't mean…" Clara's head fell, and she pressed her forehead to her knees, gasping for air.

Blair lost her patience and bent down, grabbing the girl by her shoulders and shaking her.

"What happened?" Blair shouted at her, her own tears about to spill over. She'd been holding them back all night, during Chuck's pain, and she was a minute away from letting them all spill out.

"I-I distracted him!" Clara shouted. "Then the man… The one he thought was dead, pulled a gun and s-shot him!"

Blair let go of her, disgusted. She backed away, still staring at the shrunken form. Blair swallowed, looking down and running her hand over her tired face.

"Jonas…" Blair said quietly, and the man's hard face turned from Clara's form to Blair.

"Mrs. Bass," the man nodded.

Blair looked down at Clara, who looked more pitiful than ever.

"You spoke once of a village near by… A Scottish village, yes?" She asked quietly, and Jonas nodded.

"Take Clara… take her there," Blair decided resolutely. Clara gasped and made to stand, but Jonas fixed her with a glare she had never seen from the man. Blair looked Clara over one last time. "You're not welcome to my home and, by home, I mean the entire village."

Clara's tears continued. "Let me just see him – let me just see him one more time."

Blair shook her head and walked out of the closet, leaving Clara in Jonas' capable hands. Her heart clenched. She knew the world was falling apart outside the village, she knew it. She knew people were not surviving. She knew this. She was sending this young girl out there alone. But she was dangerous. This time it was Chuck – who would be next?

She couldn't. She'd promised Chuck she would be the Lady of this house, and with that came the responsibility of the people's lives. One for the many.

She made it with sluggish feet back to Chuck's room and found Jacob exiting.

He studied her. "Clara?"

"She's gone," Blair said in a stoic voice, and Jacob slowly nodded. "Thank you," Blair told him.

Jacob's eyes widened slightly.

"I venture to say that this is not the first time you've saved his life," She remarked. and Jacob looked away. "You're a good man, Jacob. You better be good to my Dorota."

Jacob's eyes widened slightly, and he turned the same shade of pink that Dorota was sporting. Blair smiled at him and kissed his cheek, patting it afterwards.

She walked past him and entered Chuck's room, finding him propped up against pillows and staring out his open window. He looked to be still in pain, one hand pressed against his stomach and the other softly drumming against 'her' side of the bed. His hair was disheveled, all over his face, his feet were bare, and he was still in the outfit Dorota and she had dressed him in.

He turned his face slowly towards her and offered her a small smile.

"You look better," she commented, suddenly shy as to her reason for being here. She shouldn't be here. He didn't need a wife, he needed a nurse, and it was not her place. He probably didn't even want her here; last night he'd been delirious with pain and most likely not remembered the kiss on the hand or how he'd called out to her. It was a fluke. A dream sequence.

"I feel… like shit, but thank you," he nodded. Blair noticed the old ancient claw-tub on the side of his bed; it was filled with warm water.

"You asked for a bath?" She asked, touching the water. She didn't know why she did it, but she did. She didn't really want him to get burned. He watched her with dark eyes as she did.

"I figured caked blood on my legs was not ideal or comfortable," he commented, and she nodded.

She didn't know why she felt unexpectedly timid – hadn't she seen him completely naked, hadn't they looked at one another completely naked, touched one another? This was the same. He was sick. She was helping.

Nothing sexual about it.

It was a completely asexual situation.

"I'll go then…" she murmured, and he chuckled.

"You're not going to help me?" He asked, and she paused, taking him in. "Help a poor, sick man."

"Sick is right," she snapped, but he could tell she wasn't upset and smiled back at her. She walked to him slowly and helped him sit up. He groaned and hissed, and she gently helped him stand as he held on to the bedpost, his hands shaking.

"I think you should wait," she said, holding onto his waist, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"I'll be fine," he said after a moment, once his breath was controlled and even.

"You're not fine, you're in pain!" She chided him, and he smiled down at her.

"You're cute when you're working that concerned wife role," he smirked, and she swore if he weren't invalid, she would've hit him.

"_Concerned wife_ role?" She snapped. "Chuck Bass, you nearly died in my arms!"

"Would've left you a rich woman," he laughed, and she looked genuinely hurt.

"I don't care about that!" She cried.

"Blair Waldorf not caring about money?" He asked, not sure exactly why he was starting this argument with her.

Perhaps it was how she was looking exhausted – Jacob had confirmed that she'd been beside herself while he was hurt. Maybe it had been how she'd never left his side throughout the night and how she had acted like someone genuinely in love with him. Him, Chuck Bass, the boy who called her a horse, who left her to fend for herself and never fought for her. Never became a man for her. Maybe it was all that which made him feel like he needed some type of a confirmation from her. Something more than 'I'm not marrying you for your money'. His love for her was consuming him, and if a near death experience was what it took for her to realize she cared for him only a fifth of how much he cared for her, then it would all be ok in the end.

"How could you?" She snapped, ready to drown him in his bath water.

"How could I what? You said it yourself –"

"I told you I wasn't marrying you for your money –"

"Then why, Blair? Why the hell would you marry me?"

"Why would _you_ marry _me_?" She breathed out. "I'm poor, I'm little, I'm nobody, I have nothing but a pretty face and nothing else –"

"Don't say that! You have so much more!" He chided her.

"You said you didn't want me– you said it once, remember? You said I disgusted you –"

"I was pissed!" He held his chest painfully. His heart was breaking. Or it had been ripped out – he wasn't sure.

"You were cruel!" She cried back.

"Oh, and you weren't?" He snapped. "How do you think I felt watching you in Nathaniel's arms? Looking at him the way I wished you would look at me!"

Her eyes were wide. "Then why did you say those things? Why didn't you tell the truth? I would've, I would've –"

"You would've what? Left your childhood dream? Run off with _me_?" He spat.

"Yes – no! I don't know!" Lovely clear tears were now running down her cheeks.

"You see – you don't know now, like you didn't know then!" He cried.

"Why do we hurt each other like this? Why?" She demanded.

They were quiet, and he breathed in and out.

"Maybe we care too much…" There. He'd said it. He'd said the words that had been burning at his chest more than any amount of bullets ever could. Her wide brown eyes locked with his, and she stepped forward. Her scent took over him, and he had to concentrated on breathing. From his mouth – where he couldn't smell her.

"Chuck… If you could go back… If we could be seventeen again… If you could change things… What would you have done?" She asked quietly, and his eyes widened at the 100 prospects of things to do differently.

Visions of Blair in his father's wedding, visions of Nathaniel, visions of Lily, Serena, Eric… He would've done 100 things differently. He would've fought for his friend; he would've won Nathaniel back. He would've explained to him that what he felt for Blair was real. He would've been good for Blair, he would've gained her back – they would've loved one another. His father wouldn't have died thinking his son hated him. He would take care of Lily like his father would've wanted. He would've cared for Serena and for Eric.

100 things different.

And before he knew it, one single, solitary tear was born out of his left eye and slowly tracked its way down his cheek, through the contours of his nose and plopped on her lip, there to rest. She gasped softly.

He reached out and touched her wet lip with a single finger.

"I would've… I would've… I wouldn't have let you go," he finally said. The words felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. A seven-year weight.

Her eyes were wide and acute hope shined out of them.

"What would you have said?" She whispered, and her hand rested on his collarbone. It burned his skin there but it urged him to continue.

"I…I would've said… Pick me. Pick me, Blair Waldorf."

It was fear like he'd never felt before. The type that takes your soul out of the crevices where it was meant to hide and shakes it out for the world to see. Was it bravery that led him to say what he said? What is foolishness? How long before she laughed? How long before she answered out of pity? Was this her perfect revenge, her perfect game plan? Had her queen cornered his king? Was this Queen B at her absolute best? Was it a game? Was it a stupid game?

100 things went through his head. 101.

She let out a throaty breath and captured his lips with hers. They were needy. They were desperate. But they were damn real.

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To be continued


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 17** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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"_Love me still, but know not why."  
__John Wilbye_

All Blair could see before her was this man, this beautiful man, full of passion, full of life, and asking her to choose him. She should've chosen him a long time ago, she realized – and it was that realization that made her lean forward and kiss him. To tell him a million things with her lips, to give him her soul in this kiss.

She felt her own legs melting under her as he responded to her kiss, meeting her just as fervently. It was a dream; her own dream becoming reality.

It was a world apart from the one she had lived in all of her life. Then she heard him yelp against her lips, and she quickly pulled back, her eyes wide and worried. He was grimacing, pressing his hand to his bandaged chest.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" She moved around him and helped him sit. He was breathing harshly.

But his eyes never left her, despite his obvious pain.

She took a seat next to him and stared back at him, then leaned in and took his hand from where he had it pressed against her chest, taking it slowly and surely in hers. He watched her with slightly parted lips. Then, with her eyes locked on his chest, she took the bottom of his t-shirt and slowly pulled it up as he tried to raise his arms without passing out. Once it was off, she stared at his bare torso, swathed in bandages. She gestured to his hands, and he let her pull him up so that they were once more facing one another, this time wearing less clothing.

She glanced briefly at his eyes, and then licked her lips. She took the hem of her own shirt and pulled it over her head. His mouth went dry. Slowly, she unclasped her bra and, with wide eyes, let it drop on the floor so that they matched in their semi-nakedness.

Her small hands slowly went to the elastic on his pants, and he took a sharp breath as they slid under the band and pulled it down his slim hips, past his growing erection, until his pants pooled at the bottom of his bare feet. She bit her lips as he carefully stepped out of them. She took a breath and, with their eyes locked, slowly unclasped her pants, unzipping them and tugging them down her legs until they pooled at the bottom of her own feet.

He watched as she stepped out of them. He saw her visibly swallow as she reached out and gently grasped the strap of his boxers and slowly, with their still eyes locked – caramel on dark brown – pulled them down until they too had joined the collection of clothing on the floor.

Placing her hands on her own panties, she slowly slipped out of them so that they both stood naked before one another.

"What are you doing, Blair?" He asked, his voice low and raspy – like he was holding on to his composure by a single thread; a single magical thread.

"I'm… going to bathe you," she said softly. And his mouth dropped. She took his hand and led him to the bath, stepping into the water herself. She looked at him, and he slowly stepped into the tub. They faced one another as the water hit them at knee-level. She reached out and slowly undid the bandages on his chest. The white strips slowly revealed his swollen and slowly healing chest. He looked down at it and scowled. She watched him and stepped forward, then bent forward and placed a soft kiss on an angry red patch.

His hand went to her hair, and he pulled her up, touching her cheek. She leaned her face into his hand, holding it there with her own hand, then slowly pressed her lips against his palm.

And then they were standing once more before each other.

"A new game, Bass," she whispered, her face incredibly close to his as he inhaled her scent. "Things we should've said at seventeen."

He smiled slightly, enjoying the feel of them swaying in a pool of shallow, warm water.

"You first," he replied. He had, after all, already said one thing he should've said back then. It was her turn to respond.

A small smile formed at her lips, and he saw what he hardly ever saw. A sweet pink blush made its way across her cheeks.

"I, Blair Waldorf… Choose you, Chuck Bass and no one else," she whispered and he felt all the pain from the morning slip away. His heart felt lighter than it had ever felt.

"No more words," he said and pulled her to him, careful of his wound, and then kissed her. A sweet and gentle kiss, a kiss to convey what he was feeling. His chin trembled under the onslaught of emotion, and she felt it. When he pulled back, a single tear she had been unable to hide slid out of her eye and made a track down her face. Their fingers brushed lightly together.

She slowly sunk into the water and looked up at him as he slowly kneeled in the large tub and with her help sunk in, letting the warm water sooth his wounds. She pressed her bare chest to his back and gently washed him. Washed his hair, washed his back, and then they would stop and kiss, lingering lips as their hands intertwined and as they wordlessly healed all the past painful moments.

She would tell you, years later; these were the moments that were the most vivid in her mind. After they bathed, she helped him redress his wound until he was snug once more and dead tired. So she climbed into bed next to him and laid his head on her chest as they drifted off to sleep.

They woke hours later, still touching, still holding onto one another. When his food was brought, she watched him struggle for a while as he attempted to bring the fork to his mouth without crying out. Finally, he gave up and shoved the utensil her way angrily. She raised a brow and scooted next to him and, in the most intimate act they had yet shared; she slowly fed him despite his angry glares and her indulgent smiles.

Yes, those were the moments.

It was almost routine, this intimacy born out of the fear of loss and the confessions of a past long gone.

"Remember when we used to play chess?" She asked him.

He smiled slightly as she pulled socks up his bare and chilled feet.

"May I remind you that I always won?" He answered, smirk firmly in place. She scowled at him.

"I let you –"

"Like hell –l"

"It was strategy –"

"To strategically lose?"

"To stroke your ego and let you win."

He laughed at the ridiculousness of her statement, and then winced. He was not supposed to laugh, dammit.

"Stop laughing!" She chided, and then proceeded to mollycoddle him through the night. Not that he minded her small little hands all over him, he wouldn't complain about that. Not ever.

He slept a lot, which Jonas said was a good sign of the body healing. They also fed him a lot of protein.

Blair snuck Ruby in one day because the girl had been uncontrollable until she saw Chuck. He had been sleeping, still propped up amongst countless silk pillows.

"You see? He's just sleeping," Blair whispered to her, and the little girl nodded, finally relieved that Lord Bass was indeed still among them.

"I know you snuck the kid in here when I was asleep," he mentioned to her when she finished re-dressing his wounds. His scars, now three days old, were healing nicely. He hadn't developed a fever, and he was getting by with Demerol.

"She was crying uncontrollably – I had to do something," Blair said, smirking at him once the last bit of medical tape was in place. She picked up his shirt and helped him slip his arms in.

"You've developed a soft spot for the kid?" He asked her knowingly, once his head was through the hole in the shirt. His hair stayed up at the ends, and Blair combed it back with her hand.

"A bit," she nodded and smiled once she was satisfied with his hair.

"Blair…" He took a breath and studied her, because he never ever intended to have this conversation with her, but… If they were confessing things, he might as well say it.

"Humm?" She asked, gathering the leftover bandages as he studied her profile. Her hair was up in a loose bun and strands hung around her face. She wore a light boat-neck wool dress synched at the waist with a thick leather belt and some boots. Her wedding ring was the only jewelry that she sported.

She was grown now, not like the young girl he had known all of his life. Her eyes told of the world of things she had seen and done. She'd been entirely selfless these past few days as she took care of him. No one had ever taken care of him and, though she never spoke about what she felt towards him, her kisses told him, her hands told him, and her eyes screamed it.

"I know about what happened," he said carefully, and she turned to place all the items in the medical box she kept by his bed. She glanced at him, confused.

"With dinner? It was not my fault, I specifically told her to add more beef to the stew –"

"I don't mean that," he continued. She placed her hands on her slim hips and looked him over.

"What _do_ you mean?" She asked.

He took a breath and patted the space next to him. She carefully sat so they were closer to each other.

"When I first got to New York… I just wanted to –"

"Check up on me," she finished for him with a raised brow. And he slowly nodded. "I figured as much."

"I also got… medical records…" he said quietly. "I figured I'd tell you since we were being honest with one another."

She felt rather sick, to tell the truth.

She didn't know if she should feel angry, upset, hurt, or ashamed – she didn't know what to think. He'd spied on her. Found things out she'd never wanted anyone to know. Known them before…

"You knew before you asked me to marry you?" She asked quietly, and he slowly nodded.

She looked down at her hands.

"Then you knew I could never give you –"

"That doesn't matter to me," he said quickly. She met his eyes and saw the sincerity emanating from them. He knew, and he'd still wanted her. He, who was one of the few who could actually leave things to his children; who still had a legacy left in this crumbling world.

"But… Why?" She asked. She hadn't meant to cry, but she'd never really talked about it. About what she had done to herself.

"Blair, I would've wanted you if you were blind, a widow, or an island savage – really," he smirked slightly.

Here he was, all bandaged up and confessing that it would've always been them. She'd been holding this horrible secret about herself all these years, hiding it away from herself, from the world in horrible shame and here – the man she loved and cared for – was telling her that he wanted her. Regardless.

She had thought all those years ago, when they had told her the results, that no man would want her now – not a good man. Not a man that wanted a family. Why? She couldn't be a proper wife; could never experience childbirth. Never. Ever. She had cursed herself with her inability to cope.

"Why didn't you say anything?" She asked in a low voice. She hated that he saw her like this, but in retrospect she had seen him in worse. She had seen him with gaping wounds in his chest.

He shrugged as best he could. "I figured you had kept your secrets well enough."

"But not from you," she countered.

"I'm Chuck Bass, baby. If it happened, I know about it."

She smiled and slapped away his hand, and they smiled at one another.

The news that the war was getting closer to the United Kingdom came that evening, and Blair sat by Chuck reading him the newspaper in her hand. He was quiet and listened.

"You'll need to go out in the morning and bring me a report of what's happening," he said as she finished changing her clothes that day.

"What am I looking for?" She asked, taking attentive notes as he explained the things she should be checking for in the village, the people she should talk to, things she needed to let him know.

So in the morning, as he watched from his window, she saddled up and rode her horse out into the village. He had felt alone in his room, with nothing to do until Ruby was finally allowed to see him. She had strict instructions to not touch him because he was sick.

She had entered with wide, wet eyes, but when she found him standing and looking out the window, a smile had exploded on her face and she had begun to talk the way she always did.

----

The people were getting used to Blair now. They had all heard about Chuck's accident, and she spent half the morning assuring them all that her husband was healing well and soon he would be riding with her in the mornings.

They also decided that they needed to give her food.

So by the time she arrived back at the house, poor Jacob was carrying about five casseroles of unnamable dishes.

"This one smells like fish," Ruby said, scrunching up her nose in disgust as she explained to Blair.

Blair grimaced then smirked. "Let's put some in a plate for Lord Bass." And so, like the loving, doting wife she was, she took a plate of the fishy casserole up to his room.

"Mrs. Benitez sent this over. She was so nice and so worried about you," she said as she walked around his room, and he studied her with raised brows.

"Was she now?" He asked.

"She was, went on and on about how you saved her and her daughter on of your trips to Argentina, and I assured her that you would do it again in an instant –"

"Blair –"

"So I happily took this lovely casserole, and here is your dinner!" She smiled brightly at him, and he peered in on the orange mush. He wrinkled his nose.

"Doesn't look sanitary," he commented dryly as she placed the tray over his lap and clasped her hands in front of her.

"Oh, it's quite delicious," she assured him, taking a seat next to him.

"Yeah? Why don't you taste it?" He demanded.

She raised a brow. "Really, Chuck! Mrs. Benitez would be offended!" Blair chided. "She made it just for you!"

"I'm happy with my steak and baked potato, thanks," he pushed at the plate.

"Fish is a good source of protein, don't make me go over there and feed it to you," she smirked.

"I can lift my arms now," he snapped, showing her and not happy at being reminded that a few days ago he was entirely at her mercy.

She stood and swung her hips to him. His eyes zoomed in on her action.

"What's wrong, Bass?" She whispered, taking the tray from his lap. "Don't like being…" And then she was straddling him, and his eyes widened slightly. "… At my mercy?"

He buckled his hips slightly when her hand hovered slightly over his penis, which looked to be rising to meet her attention.

"Blair –"

"Shhh…." And she traced over his crotch with her fingers, making him hiss in appreciation, his eyes never leaving the little yellow brick road pattern she was creating.

Slowly she slid her hands under his pants and, with her eyes locked with his, she slid them down slowly until he popped out, happy for the attention. Gradually, and after a few agile hand maneuvers, he came quickly in her hand.

He was grimacing and happy at the same time, his lips pale and pressed together as he tried to be quiet. She smiled down at him, cleaned him off, pulled his pants up and slowly climbed off him. She picked up the tray she had placed on the floor and placed it back on his lap. He looked at her incredulously.

"Like I said. Fish is a good source of protein." She smiled and crossed her legs.

It went like that for a couple of weeks: he would wait (annoyed and upset) in the house as she rode in the morning and brought him back news of what was happening. During this time the villagers grew very fond of their Lady Bass, and her visits were often a source of great consolation. She would come home and be semi-ravished by her healing husband, who was worked up from spending the day listening to Ruby pointless chatter or Eleanor's crazy ramblings.

"I think next week I can ride," he told Blair once she finished his dressings for the evening after their customary bath together. She cocked a brow at him.

"Until you can pin me to a wall and ravish me, you will not get to be on a horse," She snapped, and he decided to ignore her for the rest of the evening. Of course, now he had visions of pinning her to little hallways and taking her then and there. He cursed the day he was shot. He proceeded to glare at his healing chest for the remainder of the evening until she crawled to bed with him and lay her head on his shoulder, tracing patterns on his chest. He would forgive her. For now.

----

"I'm sad it broke," she said as she looked down at the Dior skirt that had been a present from her dear husband in the original batch of clothing he had provided for her all those nights ago in New York.

New York. New York. It seemed like an eternity away. Even from their hideout, they could hear bombs dropping. The news that filtered into Wallace was scarce but frightening. Ruby would sometimes run to her and grasp at her legs when a horrible explosion occurred somewhere in the south. The nameless south. Blair thought Ruby would run right into Chuck's room, so did they not close the door at night.

"I can fix it!" Polly informed her, all too happy to have something to do. Since Chuck had been sick, she hadn't really had any clothing to tailor and was often found drabbling in her endless notebooks.

Blair noticed that her space was messier than usual; productivity brought out the best in her, apparently. "You don't have to, I mean – I'm sure you have other things to do," Blair told her but the young girl simply took the skirt from Blair's hands and started inspecting it.

"I can work it – by the way, since Casanova is out of it for a minute, does your mom have any more designs that you would like me to do? I'm bored these days," she admitted, and Blair smiled.

"I'll check – you know she sketches endlessly in that notepad of hers." Blair nodded and left her skirt to Polly.

Eleanor did have sketches. Hundreds of them. The 500 page notebook was filled with endless designs, each more beautiful than the next. Her mother's best work.

"If the world is ever fixed, I will make these a reality, Mom," she told Eleanor quietly while her mother slept by the fire of the room of possibilities. Her favorite spot.

As she went through the designs that night next with Chuck (he was pretending to be asleep next to her, but she knew very well that he was awake), she selected a few styles that she could see being appropriate for life in the Highlands of Scotland. The weather was deathly cold these days, and she would be unable to ride without a thick coat, gloves, a scarf, a warm hat and thick boots. Her stylish riding gear was now long gone.

"Look at these, what do you think?" She asked him, shoving with her elbow at his arm. He pretended to be upset by being woken, but she knew better. He was pouting because he didn't have her undivided attention.

"I don't care, pick whatever –"

"Just look over them, this one has a lovely turtleneck cut –"

"Turtlenecks are bad," he said with utmost sincerity.

"Since you've taken me to the coldest place on the planet, I need turtlenecks before I die of pneumonia," she snapped.

"Fine. But just a few," he agreed, and she smirked at him, leaning in to kiss him.

"And thick, warm pants, like this one."

He eyed the drawing with a scowl. "No woman can possibly look good in that."

Blair frowned and looked down at the drawing. "Yes, I can!"

"Doubt it," he countered. They bickered back and forth about this for a while before he decided to shut her up with a kiss. The kiss intensified quickly, but Blair put a stop to it.

"No, you're still hurt." She pulled herself back, panting and staring at him, concerned.

"Just be gentle," he smirked, and she gave in because his tongue was now in her ear. She didn't know how it got there, but it was there, and it was having a good time.

----

It was at the eve of the fourth week that he joined her at Polly's workroom. Polly, for her part, blinked at him in surprise.

"Mr. Bass," she gulped.

"At ease," he murmured and walked to Blair, who was inspecting herself in the mirror, trying out her new dress as Ruby looked on adoringly.

"I'd like it better in pink," the young girl put in.

"The beige is classy," Blair explained to her, and Chuck came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and sending Ruby a wink.

"Stop it," Blair chided, but smiled regardless.

"I was missing my lovely wife," he murmured and kissed her exposed neck. This sent shivers, uncontrollable shivers down her back. She arched up and tried to push him off.

"Chuck," she murmured weakly.

Ruby smiled happily and sighed. Blair managed to extract herself from Chuck's embrace and turned to Ruby.

"Get me the brown leather belt. Where did we put it?" She asked the girl, sending Chuck a glare as he sat back on a chair and carefully leaned back.

Ruby quickly scampered to look for the belt and aimed at a pile of boxes in the corner of Polly's workroom. She pulled some back when she saw some old belts poking out from under a lid.

"Oh I think I found other ones –"

"Ruby, no!" It was Polly who spoke up with wide eyes, loud enough to capture Blair and Chuck's attention. But Ruby had already pulled the lid up and out pilled lace and silk. Ruby stepped back, confused. Blair saw it immediately, and her eyes zoomed in on Polly.

"My dress," Blair said blankly, and Chuck stood to walk over to where the cloth was found. "My Badgley Mischka dress…"

Polly's eyes were wide and her face a fierce shade of red as she opened and closed her mouth. Chuck turned sharply to Pollyanna and glared her down. Polly didn't meet his eyes.

"Did you do it?" He demanded. "Cut the dress and throw it over Blair?"

Ruby looked on in fear, wishing she hadn't opened the box. She tried closing it and sticking the bits of the leftover dress back in it.

"I…" Polly's eyes filled with tears. "I never interned with Betsey Johnson."

Blair was staring at her, confused, hurt, and utterly upset.

"I interned with Eleanor Waldorf designs…" She whispered. "… I was her lackey for many months, and she never… She never paid attention to what I was offering her. Along came Jenny Humphrey, and Eleanor was all over her," Polly spat angrily. "I just… I wanted to prove that I could do Eleanor's designs, and I could do them just as good or even better."

"So you cut up my dress and you sprinkled it all over me while I slept!" Blair snapped. "I trusted you!"

"I didn't do _that_!" Polly defended herself. "I just cut the dress, so that you would come to me, and I would design one. But then you brought Eleanor's designs, and it was even better than I had thought –"

"Shut up!" Chuck demanded, and Blair reeled back because she had never seen him lose his cool this way. Even Ruby whimpered in the corner as Polly backed away. "I want you to pick up your things –"

"Chuck," Blair moved forward and touched his arm, willing him to look at her.

He slowly turned his head and took her in. "I'm fine," she assured him, pressing her hand to his arm in reassurance.

Blair glanced at Polly. "If you didn't throw the shreds on me, who did?"

Polly placed her hand on her hip and arched a brow. "Who do you think? She found me cutting it up and made me give her bits of it."

Blair sighed and looked at Chuck, giving him an 'I told you so' stare. Chuck took a breath.

"You –" He snapped at Polly. "Stay put. And I'll go talk to Clara."

Blair, for her part, had omitted to Chuck the details on the whole 'Clara is a crazy bitch that almost got you killed, so in my rage I threw her out of the village' conversation. Really, she was going to get to it sometime this year. He just hadn't really asked about her so she wasn't lying to him she was just busy with _other_ important things.

Chuck saw Blair's eyes widen and that's when his narrowed.

"Where _is_ Clara, Blair?" he demanded.

"I…" Blair paused and looked at Ruby, who was near tears. "C'mon, let's talk about this in our room." With that she dragged him out, trying to ignore his glare and stiff body until the door was closed behind them.

"Where the fuck is Clara?" Chuck snapped at her the moment the door had closed behind them.

"I had her removed," Blair answered, meeting his eyes.

He stared her down. "Where. Is. She?"

"Jonas took her to the village –" He opened his mouth. "At my orders. You said I was Lady of this house and as such your people are also my people."

"You have no idea what you've done!" He cried.

"She almost got you killed!" Blair snapped.

"No, my stupidity almost got me killed, Blair! I was distracted – I was not focused –" he fumed.

"_She_ distracted you –" Blair countered.

"Are we really playing that? After everything, we're really playing at that?" He demanded.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, I'm accusing her. She attempted to sabotage me a couple of times, she sickly threw my cut up wedding dress over me while I slept, and she defied your orders when you told everyone to stay in the house to go chasing after you!" Blair yelled. "I had every right to get her out, she was endangering you –"

"She'll endanger everything!" Chuck exploded. "She knows our location, she knows all of our secrets, she can destroy us if she wants to, and I will not be able to stop the army from coming and taking all the men in this village, _including_ myself!"

Blair's eyes were wide. "What do you mean?"

"The draft was announced last week," he said carefully. "If the army discovers what we have here, they will not only come for the men, they will come for the livestock, for the goods… And I can't stop them because of the newly signed alliance."

Blair stared at him with an opened mouth.

"We'll hide," she said softly. "We'll go far away."

He shook his head. "There is no other place, Blair! This is it. This is the last Eden – I know, I've searched! I can't even find out what is happening to Serena and Eric because communication has been cut off from the states. The only way to make it across the ocean is to win a raffle ticket from Canada to UK, and only one in a million wins!"

Blair's breathing was ragged as she studied him. "I didn't – I don't think she would do that," Blair assured him.

Chuck shook his head. "Really? You don't think? A woman hurt and scorned? You honestly don't think she would?" Blair's mouth opened, and she looked down. Chuck sighed and ran his hand over his hair.

"We need to get prepared. We need to be ready." Chuck drummed his fingers on the wood of the dresser as he concentrated. Blair stepped towards him, her eyes still as wide and concerned.

"Chuck… Do you really think they'll take you?" She asked in a low voice. Chuck stopped and stared at her, he shook his head slowly.

"I don't know… But if they do, then I'm going to ask things of you I never wanted to," he replied quietly. She looked like she was a minute away from breaking down and crying, so he pulled her hand and laid her head on his good shoulder, rocking her slightly.

Her arms went around him as she breathed him in.

"We'll hide. We'll be ok," she whispered, and she didn't know when she had suddenly reverted to being that scared little girl once more with all of these fantastical stories holding reality at bay. Maybe it was because she couldn't think of a world without Chuck. A world like that was a world not worth living in.

They stood there for a moment, her hand softly rubbing his scarring chest and his fingers massaging her scalp. It was soft and intimate, and the thought of leaving her behind against his will was more than he was able to handle at this moment.

When he had found her in New York, he was ready to leave her behind… Until he had seen her in her childhood home and, from that moment on, he had decided deep inside of himself that he was unable to leave her behind. Ever. After these weeks of acting like a married couple, of sleeping with her each night, of their little snippy arguments and their sexual closeness, he just couldn't imagine being without her. He'd always wanted her and now she was 100 percent his. Leaving her behind was like not being able to breathe.

Their moment was interrupted by Jacob knocking harshly on the door. Chuck urged him to come in, and the couple stared at the disheveled Jacob. Blair's stomach dropped from under her as she remembered now composed he normally was.

"Apologies for the interruption. There's a young lady to see you, sir." Jacob looked pale.

Blair stared at Chuck.

"How did she get here?" Chuck demanded.

Jacob swallowed. "Sir… Her name is Vanessa. A Vanessa Archibald."

Jacob expected many things to happen once he let out this revelation. He didn't expect both the Basses to speed forward and down the stairs, almost running him over.

Blair followed Chuck down the hallway and, when they got the stairs, she felt his hand close over hers. They made their way downstairs and found the young woman dressed in thick coats and mismatched fabrics, with her back to them.

She heard them coming and slowly turned around, making Blair gasp as they took her face in. The beautiful young girl they had known all those years ago was hidden behind lifeless sunken eyes, pale dirty skin, chapped lips, an extremely thin face, and a somber expression that chilled Blair to the bone.

She looked like she was shivering uncontrollably and had not eaten in days.

"Vanessa?" Blair asked, but before they made it, a small smile formed on the girl's face.

"I found you, he told me to find you" she whispered to Chuck, and then she crumbled to the floor. Chuck and Blair rushed forward… And that was when they realized she was pregnant. Very, very pregnant.

--------

To be continued

A/N - with the Holidays this week I will not be able to update until this weekend. I know you are all used to more frequest updates but I have entirely too many things going on & people coming from out of town. I will post the next part as soon as it's writen :) Thank you once more for the feedback, as always I appreciate it!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_What is done in love is done well."  
__Vincent VanGogh_

Chuck tried to lift Vanessa, but he was still healing, so Blair pulled him back and began to yell for the servants.

Mr. Grant quickly appeared, along with some maids, and with everyone's help, they managed to carry Vanessa to Blair's old room.

"Call Susana," Blair snapped at one of the maids, and the girls scurried off. "And Dorota!"

Blair and Chuck's eyes met for a moment, and they looked at one another worriedly. Blair quickly went to untie Vanessa's thick scarf as Chuck added more wood to the fire in the room to make it nice and toasty.

Blair checked Vanessa' forehead and pulled back with a hiss, glancing at Chuck, who was hovering over her with sunken eyes.

"She's burning up," Blair told him and pulled Vanessa's gloves off while Chuck untied her shoes. Blair instantly noticed the Vanderbilt ring on Vanessa's finger and looked away. Chuck saw her and his jaw tightened. He _knew_ that ring. He'd grown up hearing of it just like Blair had.

Blair touched Vanessa's face, patting her cheek. "Vanessa, wake up – wake up," Blair urged her, but the girl didn't respond, she simply moaned in her sleep. "Shit," she whispered.

Dorota burst through the room with Jacob in tow, and her eyes widened when she saw the girl on the bed.

"Help me undress her. Chuck, get a nightgown from the drawer," Blair ordered. Between Blair and Dorota, they had Vanessa down to her thin dress, which was filthy and smelled like a sewer.

"She was wandering the village calling for Chuck Bass when Jonas found her," Jacob said as he brought them a bucket of warm water with a small towel and, when the men left, Dorota and Blair removed the dirty dress from the girl's shivering form, stripped her naked, and washed her carefully, removing grime from her body.

"She hasn't bathed in months," Blair remarked, scrunching her nose as she threw Vanessa's old clothes in a bag and thrust them out the door to Jacob. There really was nothing more they could do with her hair, which was long and dirty, so Blair tied it back and away from her face.

Dorota helped place an extra-large t-shirt on the girl's form because it was the only thing she would fit into. Blair wanted her covered because, despite her prolonged pregnancy, you could see her ribs. It made Blair sick to her stomach.

Once they had her changed and bathed, Chuck and Jacob came back in with Susana, who took one look at Vanessa and bit her lip. Blair knew it was not a good sign, but persevered. One of the maids brought a broth that the cook made and set it next to Vanessa's limp form.

They watched as Susana pressed an old stethoscope to Vanessa's belly and nodded. "It's still alive. There's still a heartbeat." Then she moved to take her temperature.

"105," she said tersely. Blair sighed and pressed her hand to her mouth, her heart beating erratically. "Dissolve two aspirins in a small cup of water. Let's see if we can get her to drink them. And we need to get her to eat something."

Dorota quickly went for the aspirin and water, and Susana and Blair tried to get Vanessa to drink it. After some time, Vanessa slowly opened her eyes and instantly recognized Blair.

"Blair?" She asked hoarsely.

Blair nodded at her, and her eyes widened when Vanessa's thin hands reached out to her.

"My baby…" she whispered.

"It's still alive," Blair told her and pushed her back down on the bed. Vanessa's face crumbled, and she let out a dry sob.

"I was so afraid… I was so afraid." Blair held her hand tightly.

"Vanessa… Where's Nate?" Blair asked with a trembling voice, and she felt Chuck standing next to her, peering down at the girl.

Vanessa's eyes found his form, and she licked her dry lips.

"Where is he?" Chuck demanded.

More sobs as she shook her head from side to side. "He's gone…"

Blair's chest felt tight, and she knew Chuck was rigid next to her.

"… When he lost his job…" Her teeth were chattering. "… He j-joined the army…"

Chuck ran his hand over his hair and his jaw twitched.

"… He didn't know I was p-pregnant. He wouldn't have left otherwise…" Blair smoothed her hair back and nodded at her. "… He's been missing. No one would tell me anything…"

Blair pressed a cold cloth that Dorota handed her to Vanessa's forehead as the girl sobbed.

"… My employer had to let me g-go, but he said that you asked about us," she said to Chuck, and Chuck nodded. "…Nate once said that if I needed something… Or if he went missing, to find you. That you would help."

"Of course," Chuck nodded, and Blair agreed with him.

"I want my husband back… I just… Want him back…" Vanessa's face crumbled.

"Sshhhhh," Blair soothed her, running the cool cloth over her face as she squirmed away.

"I'm so cold," Vanessa whispered, closing her eyes.

"How did you get here?" Chuck demanded.

"My employer got me a ticket… On the boat. They said you were somewhere in Scotland… I've been searching for… So long… For months…" And she was back to being asleep. Her body was still shivering, and she was balmy and shaky.

Blair turned to look at Chuck, who wore the darkest expression she had ever seen on him, as he looked on at the passed out Vanessa.

"Chuck…" she whispered, but he turned sharply and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him and making her jump slightly. Blair made to go after him, but Susana held her hand down. Blair met the girl's sharp eyes.

"She may not make it," she whispered. Blair swallowed.

"She will," Blair snapped and walked out.

She found him slumped against the door of his study, his hands shoved in his pockets and his head cast down – his hair was over his eyes. She saw the horrible look that was crossing his face at the moment, but stood before him resolutely.

He knew she was there; he knew that perfectly well. He was hoping she would go away, let him stew over the news he'd just received.

"It's not your fault." Was the first and only thing she could think of, knowing it was the only thing crossing in his mind. She could see it in his eyes; in the way his neck was hunched tensely forward. His entire demeanor screamed 'I've killed my best friend, and now his wife is dying'.

"Chuck…" Blair pressed her hand under his chin and forced him to look at her. "Look at me… It's not your fault."

She felt his jaw twitch and crack in her hand.

"You don't know…" Chuck whispered. "You just don't."

"I do know!" Blair insisted. "You think he didn't hate you back? He did! I felt it… I felt it when he kissed me, I felt it when he touched me … I could see it in his eyes. Every single moment that he looked at me, all he could see was you. Us. Just covered in one another. He would've pushed you away… You cannot be the only blamed party."

Chuck looked away, and she studied his profile. "What are you thinking, what's going on in your head?"

He said not a word. It was like the Chuck she had seen and been with these past few weeks was slowly slipping away, being replaced by a cold, calculating man. And she was left alone. All alone with her love and her memories of the man he could possibly be.

"Miss Blair!" Dorota cried for her around the corner, and both of them rushed towards the room and back to reality.

Blair was there in a second. Vanessa was awake once more, and Susana had propped her up on pillows. She was grimacing and panting.

"She's gone into labor," Susana said grimly, and Blair blanched, grasping Vanessa's hand in hers.

Vanessa stared at her. "Can you find him –" She let out a grunt, gasping. " – Find him, please."

"I will," Chuck declared from behind Blair, nodding at her. "We will find him."

Vanessa tried to smile, but it came out as a weak grunt. She fell back on the pillows, sighing as tears escaped her eyes.

"She's too weak…" Susana whispered to Blair. Blair met her eyes resolutely.

"She _will_ survive this birthing, she will.," Blair countered, and Chuck stared at her.

Vanessa stared at the two women talking softly. "What's going on with my baby? … What's wrong with my baby?"

"We don't know about the child," Susana said and folded more towels under Vanessa's legs.

But Vanessa's eyes were on Blair – wide, green, and afraid. "Blair…"

Blair tried to smile. "You're going to be fine; you and your baby will be fine."

Blair watched as she scrunched up all her pretty features and grunted loudly. "Oh, God… It hurts…"

"Shhh…." Blair looked pleadingly at Susana, who had now placed a white blanket over Vanessa's legs so that she could spread them. The light of the fire cast a soft glow over the room, and the warmth was both welcoming and stifling. Jacob pulled a reluctant Chuck out of the room as Blair, Dorota, Susana, and two other maids scampered in and out of the room.

Vanessa's fever was not letting up, and she started going in and out of consciousness. When she would wake she would, at times, talk of nonsense, and at others, she would chill Blair to the bone.

"If it's a boy… Name him Nathaniel…" She whispered when she woke sometime that night, and Blair's spine felt like ice.

"_You_ will name him whatever the hell you like…" Blair told her, nodding. Vanessa had smiled sadly at her then. A smile so sad that it broke her heart.

She had fallen asleep, and Blair stood, cracking her back, as she went to look for Chuck. He sat alone outside, his shirt un-tucked, his tie long gone, his sleeves rolled up, and his hair a mess. He was also drunk.

She was so tired, so very tired that she could simply lie down and sleep for hours. Just sleep her life away until, when she woke, she would be a smiling school girl and all this darkness that was just suffocating them would be lifted.

She sat across from him in the narrow hallway, and his eyes slowly met hers. There was such anger, pain, and hurt in them that she wanted to cry out.

"I fell asleep for a moment… And I saw what would happen…" he whispered, so very low that she had to cease breathing to understand his muffled words. "I wondered to myself if that's the pain my mother went through as I killed her…"

Blair opened her mouth as her eyes widened in horror.

"If she screamed like that. And then I realized it probably was," he continued. "And my father sat outside listening to her scream…"

"Chuck –"

"So when I found out that you couldn't ever give me a child… I was saddened… and _relieved_," he interrupted her. "Because you would never scream like that…"

She stood up and slowly kneeled before him. His eyes widened slightly at her act, but he continued his rhythmic breathing. She reached out and tried to touch his face, but he pulled away. "… In my dream, Vanessa died… And you were finally able to have Nathaniel."

Blair shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

"… And it would make sense, you know."

"Stop it –" Blair pleaded. "Stop doing this to yourself and to us – please!"

" – And I can't help but wonder – " His eyes were lost to her. "Will you always chose him?"

"I've chosen _you_, I've told you this – what else do you want me to say? What do you want me to do?" She demanded, her lower lip trembling. She knew he was making no sense, knew he was not thinking right, but she still wanted to shake him. Wanted to hit him until he snapped out of it.

"I want you to look at _me_," he spat. "The way you looked at him."

Blair took a breath and glared at him. "I will _never_ look at you that way – I was a child, I didn't know! I was a stupid kid in love with an idea – this beautifully concocted idea!"

"_I_ want to be the idea!" He roared, standing up and glaring down at her.

She gasped and reeled back at the anger emanating from him. She knew he was drunk, she knew he meant nothing of what he said. She knew she couldn't be angry with him – he was having some serious issues at the moment, and they had nothing to do with her. Or did they? Had all these things sprung from that one moment all those years ago? That pivotal moment between them on a bar. Her choosing Nate? Her being wrong? Him hurting her?

Or where they Chuck's issues? Things he had never resolved about his father, his mother, his best friend – and they had nothing to do with her?

And no matter what angry words he cried out at her, they had nothing to do with her?

She didn't know, but one thing she was certain. She had to let him go. She had to stand by him, but she had to let him act out the way he needed to act out until he was ready. Until he would come to her. For her. For them.

He had lived thousands of days away from them all, his anger and resentment fermenting inside of his soul until all that was left was his desperate need to forgive himself and just himself.

"Ma'am…" Susana poked her head out and nodded at her. Blair acknowledged her and quickly glanced at Chuck, who was once more lost in his darkness.

"I wish you _would_ find Nate. But not for me… for his wife and his child… and for you," Blair whispered to him. "… You're going to find that the hardest thing you'll ever have to do in this life is forgive yourself," she continued. "It took me three years to fully forgive myself for what I had done to my body… I hope that one day you will also know that peace."

She left him alone, walking back to Vanessa and her screams.

----

He closed his eyes against the shrieks originating from the room. Screams of pain and suffering. Screams of something ending. Those screams were killing Chuck Bass. It had taken him around two years to be complete immune to the happenings of his friends and family in the Upper East Side. About two years, twenty-four months. Going back was a mistake, marrying Blair was a mistake, loving her was another one. His life was riddled with mistakes. Had he just forgotten about this Blair wouldn't be here, Vanessa wouldn't be here and he wouldn't have cared at all what was happening to them.

He wouldn't care if Nathaniel was lost somewhere and killed. He wouldn't have cared if his wife was alone now giving birth to the last Archibald. He wouldn't have. Yet here he was, the great Chuck Bass, bachelors extraordinary, precarious youth, abandoning reason for insanity. Because he couldn't think straight, he knew the words he said made no sense, he knew this because his internal thoughts were contradictions of what he wanted. He wanted Blair, wanted her forever but he didn't want her. He wanted Nate safe but he wanted him never to come close to Blair. He wanted Vanessa to live but he wanted her to die so that another human being could experience what he had to endure all of his life. But the thought of someone else hating themselves like he'd hated himself made his stomach churn so he drank and drank a lot.

He didn't know what he wanted, what he thoughts – but one thing was certain as certain as the fact that Ruby was hiding at the end of the hallway listening to the screaming and the sobbing. He had to leave. He had to breathe.

"Sir… Can I get you anything?"

"Yes," he answered his faithful servant. Jacob stood to attention, ready for any mundane order that Chuck would thrust his way. "I want to know – within the hour – where the _fuck_ Nathaniel Archibald is located."

Jacob's mouth opened to protest.

" – And if you cannot deliver, don't bother coming back." His voice held a certain finality to it. One that spoke of many things and of nothing.

Chuck's dark stare followed Jacob's hunched form as he walked away from him with his assignment weighing in on his shoulders.

A scream broke his thoughts, and he died just a little bit inside.

---------

Vanessa' small form arched off the bed. Blair stared, wide eyed, as blood flowed from between her legs, and she saw Susana's grave face handing Dorota the bloodied towels and collecting a fresh one to be stained anew.

The girl fell back on the pillows exhausted, her eyes closing, her lips chapped, and her face pale and pasty. Blair continued murmuring to her that it would be alright, passing her damp towel over her face.

"Talk to me – tell me things," Blair encouraged her, nodding and attempting to distract her. Vanessa licked her lips and, with her eyes still closed, she smiled slightly.

"Nate proposed to me under a tree. It was summer, and we had exactly forty-one dollars." She smiled at the memory. "When I saw the ring, I told him we should sell it and buy grains for a few months, but he said… He said it was the last piece of the Archibald fortune, and he wanted me to have it."

Blair stared at the ring in Vanessa's hand. It hung loose on her finger from all the weight loss the girl had undergone.

"When I was hungry, I was tempted forty-one times to sell it," she whispered. "But I couldn't… Then he would be really gone."

Blair smiled. "Chuck will find him, he will bring him back, and then all of you can live here with us."

Vanessa slowly opened her eyes and stared at Blair. There was pure desperation and loss. "Chuck… He loves you…"

Blair swallowed and held back her tears as the girl, once more, curved off the bed, screaming.

"It's time," Susana announced and looked grimly at Blair, who refused to look back. Blair watched Vanessa push and push until she had pushed all of her life and soul out, and the distinct cries of a child filled the room.

Blair turned and stared with wide eyes as the small thing shook and screamed as if someone was killing it.

"It's very thin, but looks healthy." Susana looked relieved, but not as relieved as Blair felt. Dorota reached out and wrapped the baby in a clean sheet the moment Susana cut the chord with scissors. Blair, with tears in her eyes, looked back at Vanessa, who was passed out on the bed and didn't see her child when it came out.

"A girl. A little girl." Dorota looked teary as she rocked the baby.

"She's bleeding –" Susana attempted to work between Vanessa's legs. "I don't know… I don't know how to stop it, or even why she's bleeding."

Blair looked helplessly at the form of the mother. "Vanessa!" She shook the girl slightly. Only moans came out of Vanessa's lips.

"We _need_ a doctor…" Susana said. "I don't know how to save her."

Blair's breath hitched. "Tell Chuck."

Dorota placed the crying baby on a small little crib that someone in the village had volunteered, and the baby wrestled with the blanket that Dorota used to cover her up. Chuck walked quickly behind Susana and stared at Vanessa's form, his face darkening.

He watched as she moaned in her sleep. He watched as blood continued to stain the white sheet between her legs, blood just flowing out of her at an alarming rate. He needed to breathe.

"I've sent my four fastest men to see what they can find…" he said and then stalked out. Blair would have gone after him if Susana hadn't requested her help to try to elevate Vanessa as best they could. By the time they had propped her legs on the pillows and the bleeding had lessened, the baby was asleep. Dorota had fed it a bottle of warm milk. Vanessa was in no condition to breastfeed and her lack of nutrition was evident in her nearly shrunken breasts.

Susana and Dorota walked out, leaving Blair alone with Vanessa, crouched down next to her figure. Hours ticked by as the baby slept.

Her back hurt, her eyes stung, but she dared not let go of the hand softly grasping hers.

"Vanessa…" Blair whispered, shaking her a little bit. She was afraid. She hadn't woken in a few hours, and she could hear Chuck pacing outside.

Slowly light green eyes blinked at her.

"I'm so cold…" she whispered softly.

"We're trying to get a doctor…" Blair whispered to her. "Just hang on. You must hang on for your daughter."

The other girl smiled slightly at her. "Take care of her… Please…"

She took a shallow breath and Blair blanched. "No. What are you talking about? You're going to be just fine," she assured her.

It turned into a sad smile.

"Let me see her…"

Blair quickly nodded and brought the sleeping baby to Vanessa, placing her next to her since she was too weak to pick her up. Vanessa shed tears.

"She's so beautiful… Melanie… Her name is Melanie…" Vanessa whispered.

"Melanie Archibald." Blair nodded, tucking the baby into her blanket as she snuggled into Blair's touch.

The baby seemed to sense her mother and turned to look at Vanessa.

"She's got his eyes," Vanessa smiled, tears trickling down her face.

"Yes… So, you see, everything will be fine. Chuck will find Nate, and the three of you will be alright and taken care of. I swear it," Blair assured her.

Vanessa turned to Blair, and Blair thought she'd never seen anyone look so very pale and fraying.

"Take care of her… Please." Her voice was anxious.

"Stop talking like that…" Blair asked, taking the baby and placing her back in her little bassinette.

"Blair…" She turned to the bed and found a most disturbing sight. Vanessa was staring straight ahead, her eyes glazed over.

"Vanessa," Blair said urgently, taking her hand once more.

She whispered. "Take care of my baby… Please… Please…."

Blair nodded, holding back her own tears. Finally, she watched one last breath shiver out of the frail, thin body before her. The once bright green eyes were blank and lost.

Blair gasped, reeling back. The baby sensed something and began to cry in earnest. Blair hands went to her mouth, and she let out a cry. Chuck instantly entered the room, and she turned to him.

His eyes were wild and untamed, he was lost to her. Completely lost.

"She's dead," Blair cried. He stared at the body, his mouth open and his hair disheveled. He walked slowly and sat in front of Blair with Vanessa's dead body between them. His jaw twitched as he reached out and closed her eyes. Blair muffled a sob. His eyes turned as he looked at her.

"She was a good person…" he finally said, and for a moment she saw a shiver of the sane man she had fallen in love with but she knew, like she knew that Vanessa had just died, that he was only there for a moment.

Blair was just staring at him. Afraid. Afraid of what he would do. What crazy thing he would do.

"What did she say?" He asked her and his voice was so un-Chuck-like that Blair wasn't sure if to answer the doppelganger.

Blair looked at the crying baby. "She said to take care of the baby."

Chuck nodded, his eyes getting glassy and then he shifted and Blair saw the sane man fly out the window. Her Chuck was once more gone, replaced by this horrible man that made no sense and couldn't handle grief to save his life.

"And that you loved me," Blair said quietly to herself, so quietly that he didn't hear her.

He stared at her, and she wanted to say it. She could've said it, but she didn't because he stood up quickly and paced the room.

"Chuck…" she tried, standing to go to him, but he backed away.

She winced but didn't look down.

"I'm going to go," he said.

Her eyes went wide as she stared at him.

"W-what?" She stuttered, and when he didn't respond, she turned and picked up the crying baby. The child calmed down once she was in Blair's arms.

Chuck looked down at the baby. A small struggling form with wide crystal blue eyes and a soft fuss of brown hair. She had long lashes and she instantly focused on him, her little mouth forming a perfect O as she stared at him, her little arm waiving from Blair's own arms.

"I'm going to find Nathaniel," he said with resolution and looked away from the child.

"Chuck, you don't know where he is," Blair replied, holding the child closer.

"Jacob found me information that tells me he's somewhere in Saudi Arabia."

Her eyes were wide. "_Somewhere_?" She spat. "Are you crazy?"

His eyes turned cold. "I'm going to find him. Bring him here… Give him his child… And then you can go."

Her heart dropped to her feet. "What-"

"I'm tired," he said finally. "I'm tired of these games. We played house nicely. We played love nicely, too. It was lovely for a while. But the truth is that you needed my money, and I gave it to you, and that's why you're here in Scotland and not New York."

She realized he looked older, exhausted.

"You will no longer be a prisoner," he said softly. "I apologize for all I did. I promise you and your family… will be well taken care of."

With that he gave her a curt nod and walked out.

Dorota shortly entered and found her staring at the spot on the door with the child in her hands.

"Miss Blair?" Dorota asked her and she blinked, noticing her faithful maid.

"Take the baby," Blair said. She glanced at Vanessa's dead body, and Dorota crossed herself. "Arrange for a funeral." Her voice broke.

Dorota nodded, taking the small child. "Where are you going, Miss Blair?"

"I have to save my husband," She explained and nearly ran to the other room, down the little hallway that divided their old rooms, but his side was locked. She was now the one pounding on the door. She was now the one asking to be let in.

"Chuck!" she cried. "Chuck, open the door – please!"

He slowly opened the door, and she stood back. When had she started crying?

She stared at him and hiccupped. "You can't possibly think of leaving me here with the war going the way it is, and with a baby, and not knowing where you are, if you're alright – _if_ you're alive!"

"Cheer up, I may get killed, and then you won't have to face the embarrassment of a divorce," he said calmly and coldly.

"Stop it!" She cried, pulling at his jacket.

"Stop what?" He cried back, holding her hands down.

"How can you say that – you know I would be devastated if something happened to you, you know I would!" She cried, and now tears were coming out of her eyes.

"No, I don't know that – I don't know that at all," he snapped and pushed her away to grab his gloves. Her mere presence was making him even more muddled and confused.

She stared at him desperately.

"For all I know, every single thing you ever said to me was a lie. A fucking lie, and I don't believe you: your tears, your kisses, your words… Useless." He slipped on his gloves. "A fantastic performance by a greatly talented actress." He spat because he wanted her to hate him as much as he was hating himself. Because then they would all have something in common. Hating Chuck Bass was something very easy and he wanting to bring her to that point once more. Have her curse him for the rest of his life.

She looked at him hopelessly, and then slapped him. Slapped him hard across his cheek and then slapped him again. He slowly turned his head to look at her.

They stared at one another, their chests rising and falling, and then he pushed her against the wall of the hallway. His mouth was on her neck and, soon enough, he was ravishing her.

--------

To be continued


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 19** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

_Before I loved you, love, nothing was my own:  
__I wavered through the streets, among objects:  
__Nothing mattered or had a name:  
__The world was made of air, which waited.  
__I knew rooms full of ashes,  
__Tunnels where the moon lived,  
__Rough warehouses that growled 'get lost',  
__Questions that insisted in the sand.  
__Everything was empty, dead, mute,  
__Fallen abandoned, and decayed:  
__Inconceivably alien, it all  
__Belonged to someone else - to no one:  
__Till your beauty and your poverty  
__Filled the autumn plentiful with gifts.  
__Pablo Neruda, XXV Sonnet_

She felt the thick mahogany behind her back as he pressed her into the wall, his lips finding hers as they met in an euphoric fountain of desperation. Her hands grasping his hair, his knee pushing between her legs, his hands fully massaging her breast through her blouse – it was exhilarating. It was exfoliating all the hours she'd spent by Vanessa's bed, holding her hand and watching her die. It was the sweetness of forgetting. The art of it. If his tongue continued its rhythmic movements in and out of her mouth, she might be saved. The tears that mingled with her saliva might not be real.

He pulled back, panting and blind with lust.

"What do you want Blair?" He demanded and licked her cheek sensually – making her eyes roll back.

She was incoherent.

"Tell me what you fucking want," he whispered harshly, his eyes never leaving her face. There was a darkness crossing his gaze that she'd never seen and never wanted to see again but, in this moment of drowning and yearning, she _needed_ that look from him. She hungered for it.

"I – I want you," she managed to gasp out, even though his knee was kneading her groin and sending her hips bucking forward. She was pulling him down for more kisses; more intoxicating tongue action, but he stood his ground, still glaring down at her.

"Just me?" He demanded.

An angry shadow covered her face, and she reeled back, her hazy mind understanding his desperate need for reassurance that still pissed the hell out of her. So she shoved him and shoved him hard, pushing him into his/their room until he fell back on the bed. Without preamble, without warning, she yanked his zipper down and shoved her panties to the side and lowered herself onto him. Claiming him, making him hers. All hers.

If this was the game he wanted to play, she was as fucked up as he was to play it. It was dark, it was twisted, but it was real. He was looking at her with wide eyes and an even wider mouth, unable to comprehend what she was doing. He was rock hard and arching his hips to meet her frantic thrusts as they took over his control and his sanity.

Wild passionate lovers they were. As she clamped around him, he grasped her hips and soon he was spilling into her, letting out a yell of abandon, full of anger and hurt pride.

His best friend's wife was dead in the room next door. He came again and harder this time.

When neither had anything left in them, she slumped on top of him, her bones now jelly and her soul withered into a stalk of a painful nothing. She remembered watching a movie as a child about a boy who read a book and became part of the story. In the story, the fantasy world was being devoured by the Nothing. The Nothing destroyed everything until nothing was left, because people didn't believe in things anymore. An empty vessel.

Can you feel love when you don't believe in it? When the world around you is so very empty that it contaminates you until all that is left is a void? Can it truly happen? How can a world once filled with such lovely things be so very sad?

She fell asleep there, on top of him, with him inside of her and fully clothed. He wrapped his arms around her and held her there, his own eyes drifting to that dull, empty place.

He dimly wondered if this was mourning. If it was… He hated it.

-------

She knew she was dreaming, but the dream was so very wonderful and real that she wanted it to continue for years to come.

_It was the week after her ninth birthday that her mother had her long curls cut. They had been thick and long, going way past her waist. Dorota would pull them back with thick ribbons her father had brought in from Paris. But her mother claimed that a short bob was all the rage in Milan and all the little girls were wearing their brown hair right past their chin. So Blair, in an effort to please her mother and show her how cultured and perfect she was, dialed Jacques, her stylist, and demanded he make a house call. _

_So Jacques had chopped off her chestnut curls, making them fall effortlessly to the floor of her giant bathroom. At first she was happy and content with her new look. Jacques had styled it just as her mother described, and she felt grown up. Like a modern Natalie Wood. Graceful and European. _

_When her mother had arrived from her trip to Rome, she had chosen her best outfit: a French design her mother had hand-picked for her a few weeks before. Dorota had adorned her hair with a lovely matching navy blue with white poker dots bow. She was elegant and fresh – her mother would fawn all over her new look._

_But Eleanor, after a ten hour flight and after countless meetings over her new Spring line, was exhausted and ready for a couple of Valiums, Dorota's white tea with lavender, and her luxurious bed. So Blair had sat and waited, poised and perfect, her legs crossed at the right angle, and her little hands folded before her. Her back was straight and her new hair was arranged perfectly. She had a bright smile on her face when her mother stepped off the elevator, and her heart soared when Eleanor's eyes focused on her._

"_Why are you still up?" She asked Blair, and Blair's soul deflated a little. Her hair. Her new hair…_

"_Daddy went to dinner with some bankers, and I stayed to wait up for you. Perhaps we can have some of Dorota's sugar free cheesecake like we love –"_

"_Oh, darling – I'm so tired," Eleanor cut her off. "Maybe tomorrow, after my meeting with Caroline."_

"_I thought you had the Saks presentation also –"_

"_Yes, yes I do. Thank you for reminding me." And her mother walked to her and kissed her head. Blair was sure her mother would comment on her hair now, comment on how lovely she looked. "Goodnight, darling."_

_And she had walked away, her assistant fluttering behind her and Dorota fluttering before her, nodding at her requests. _

_Little Blair Waldorf had sat on her chaise attempting to understand what had happened. Had her mother not seen her new hair? Had she cut her beloved, long curls for nothing? Did she do something wrong? She just didn't understand._

_Her phone rang next to her, and she looked at the caller ID. 'Chuck Bass'. She groaned and rolled her eyes, intent on ignoring his call. He liked to call her entirely too much, and she was not in the mood for Chuck Bass. She wanted to throw a fit in her room and perhaps watch her favorite film._

_Serena was in the Alps, skiing with her mother's new boyfriend, the European investor. Nate was in Connecticut with his grandparents, and she was left all alone with Chuck Bass. Really! Even Georgina would've been a better replacement, but Georgie was in Chicago with her aunt and cousin (whom she claimed she had kissed). _

_Her phone rang again, and she continued to ignore it as she stewed in her anger. That was when the elevator door opened and out walked the very dapper and overly confident Chuck Bass. _

_Really! Had he no class? No he hadn't._

_She was very unhappy with him, but secretly pleased. She didn't want to be alone, and she could dimly hear her mother yelling at everyone to leave her be. Young Chuck Bass smirked when he saw her all poised and polished._

"_Waiting for me?" He drawled, and she rolled her eyes. He swaggered to her, his hands stuck in his pockets, and his overly happy bowtie seemingly leering at her. _

"_Chuck," she greeted, and his smirk widened._

"_I called – tried to warn you," he explained, and she looked away. That was when he noticed her hair. His eyes softened, and she observed him, wanting to know his reaction. Did she really look that horrible?_

"_New look?" He asked, coming closer and inspecting her hair. _

_She blushed under his gaze, because he always stared at her unabashedly. _

"_It's all the rage in Milan," she snapped._

_His smirk continued as he circled her like a shark would its prey. _

"_I bet it is," he drawled, and she fumed silently, but never let go of her lady-like image._

"_Why are you here, Bass?" She asked wearily._

_He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Bored," he replied. She arched a brow. Leave it to Chuck Bass to come bother Blair Waldorf when bored._

"_Where's your dad?" She asked him._

"_I don't know," he said in his most uncaring voice, and she knew it was the furthest thing from the truth. Because Chuck Bass and Blair Waldorf always knew exactly where their parents were. They knew their schedule better than their own. Between piano lessons, pony rides, and endless lessons, they kept tabs on their emotionally unavailable parents._

_Just as she now sat on her chaise, deflated and upset with life because of the latest slight, he was probably just as alone. His father had probably passed by and uttered a hello and a comment on his grades, and retired with his latest 20-year old conquest. And there he had been left, all suited up, hair combed and no father. _

"_Want to play chess?" She asked suddenly. _

_His ears perked up._

"_You always lose," he replied, but she knew he wanted to play as much as she did. She rose with her own smirk and elegantly walked up the stairs, and he followed dutifully._

"_I can see your panties," he drawled behind her, and she stopped, glaring down at him. _

"_Why are you looking?" She demanded, turning a shade of pink she didn't care to admit. _

"_They match," he commented, smirk still planted on his little face._

"_You are a perv," she narrowed her eyes and continued up the stairs, but this time she placed her small hand on the back of her skirt to make sure he didn't get any more peepshows. _

"_You are a tease."_

She woke startled. The memory was so old, she had most likely forgotten it. She sighed and ran her hand over her face and turned to her husband… But he was gone.

--------

When he had gone to sleep with her on top of him, he had, at first, fallen into a dreamless state. But then memories began to haunt him.

_She had also fallen asleep on top of him after a serious make out session in which he showed her the joys of oral sex. She had a small smile on her face; her small fist was curled up and tucked under his chin, holding on to his collar. He thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her make up was long gone and so was her decency. He knew any moment she would wake and grab her clothes, shouting obscenities at him, and he would see her huffing and puffing about her virtue. _

_But he liked her like this – just like this. On him, with him, all for him. Nathaniel the last man on her mind after he had left her spent and satisfied. He, Chuck Bass, had made Blair Waldorf lose all reason and decency. Him._

_It was downright titillating. _

_She stirred and slowly came to life, his little porcelain doll. She'd always been his porcelain doll. Boys were not supposed to want dolls, weren't supposed to want to play with any, but Chuck Bass had always had a doll, and her name was Blair Waldorf. She had always dressed in stifling dresses and shiny black shoes, always perfect, always poised with a poison tongue that sent whiplashes his way whenever she saw fit. He loved and enjoyed it. Always enjoyed their moments. _

"_What time is it?" She has asked, pushing herself off him, her small hand pressing against his chest as she yawned. _

"_Twelve forty," he replied easily, stretching out on his bed. _

"_Oh, my God!" She scrambled and, sure enough, her virtue was about to flutter. _

"_I thought we'd go for round four," he smirked, watching as she slipped her skirt over her hips and zipped it up. She cast a dark look his way._

"_I don't think so," she snapped. "This is not happening again."_

"_See you at seven, then?" He drawled, and she threw a pillow at him._

_Of course, she had allowed him to pick her up at seven. He drove her to a small, secluded Italian restaurant in Harlem where no one knew them, and they ate their homemade lasagna in peace… Peace meaning arguments that ended up with more sex in the limo. It had been their one and only date. _

When he woke, he was covered with her. Her hair was on him, his hands, her body – he was still _in_ her. He shifted and slowly rolled her over. He let out a breath as she sighed happily in her sleep. He glanced at her and saw her once more, his porcelain doll.

His kryptonite.

Creator and destroyer.

Soft and hard, friend and wife. He swallowed and looked away and, in the distance, he heard the distinguished cry of a baby. The lump was back in his throat, burning at him. Slowly, he extracted himself from the bed and zipped his pants up, casting a look towards the beauty in his bed. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, so he carefully walked to her, bent down, and pulled her skirt down, covering her up as she stirred softly in her sleep.

He had absolutely and completely fallen in love with her, and he was no longer denying it. He would die for her; he would give up all he had for her. So he bent down and kissed her forehead, making her mumble his name. He smirked softly.

"Tease," he whispered and walked out of the room.

----------

He was gone. He was gone. He was gone. She couldn't think of anything else. She sat up and jumped off the bed. She heard the cry of a baby, and reality came faster than ever.

Where was he? Halfway to Saudi Arabia? Her heart was beating like her life was ending – which it most likely was. If he had left her all alone, her life would end.

She loved him and needed to tell him, needed to tell him now and make him believe it. Make him understand that ever since he was that little boy in the playground with asthma and a pale face, she had cared for him. She had to tell him because he belonged to her like she belonged to him.

She slipped on her shoes, threw her light blue afghan around her shoulders, and ran down the hall, cursing the waterworks that were now a staple of her days.

"Chuck!" She cried out and the maids were staring at her like she'd lost her mind. She grabbed one of them. "Where is he?" She demanded, and they shyly pointed in the direction of his study. Without preamble, she ran to it and burst through the door, finding him hunched over a map with Jacob next to him.

Both men, startled, looked up from the large desk and focused on her untidy appearance. Chuck's brows furrowed in concern as he straightened up and stared at her.

"I – I need to talk to you," she stammered. Jacob pushed his glasses up and nodded, leaving them alone.

Blair looked behind her, making sure Jacob had closed the door, and then turned to Chuck, who had stuck his hands in his pockets and was looking blank and unassuming.

Without waiting for his reaction, she ran to him and embraced him, holding him close.

He was certainly taken aback, but quickly held her to him, placing his cheek over her head and holding her close. She sighed into him.

"You were gone," she whispered, and he rocked her slightly.

"I didn't mean to scare you," he assured her, pulling her head back and staring at her.

His eyes were the soft caramel color she loved and enjoyed because it spoke volumes as to what he was feeling. Feelings of her own bubbled over, and she smiled, opening her mouth to say what she had wanted to say for so very long, but the door was thrown open, making them both jump up, startled.

It was Jacob.

"A moment –" Chuck chided.

"The army." Jacob's face was hard as stone. "We've been breached."

Blair felt she was crumbling. Truly crumbling. Behind Jacob, Dorota appeared, rocking the crying Melanie in her arms and looking desperately at Blair.

Too many things. Just too many things.

Chuck let go of Blair and walked to Jacob. "How many?"

Jacob swallowed as his wide eyes met Chuck's. "About three dozen."

Blair reached out and held onto the desk. "Let's go! Let's hide," she urged them. "They don't know you're here. We can get you and the rest of the young men out of here before they even find you –" Blair spoke frantically, her eyes hard as she tried to block out the sad and lonely cries of Melanie.

They heard screams from some of the house maids and Blair knew, in that moment, that it was too late. Chuck's eyes locked with hers.

"…_I'm going to ask things of you I never wanted to."_

And she saw it then. Beyond their control, beyond this magical illusion he had created, the world was still very much on fire. They just didn't see the smoke. Life went on, people died, people they knew and cared about died, and they stayed in the illusion. And the illusion was ending. Vanessa, inadvertently, had been the catalyst, but it was bound to happen one way or another.

All good things can and will come to an end. Because you can hide for only so very long before you have to grow up.

Their gaze was interrupted by the butler, who scrambled to Chuck.

"Sir, the captain of the guard is demanding to see you," he huffed out.

Chuck slowly closed his eyes and nodded. "Thank you, Jefferson."

She was shaking.

He turned to her. "I want you to stay inside. I don't want you to see."

One last lingering look and he stalked out the door with Jacob fast at his heels as he hissed instructions.

Blair stayed rooted in the spot before scrambling after him, her breath coming shorter and shorter in the chaos that was her mind. They were taking him away.

No one was returning, they were taking him away from her, and she hadn't even told him how she felt. She could faint and lose it, or she could fight.

"Miss Blair!" Dorota chided after her, but Blair was resolute.

-------

Chuck Bass was never a fighter. When the rumors of the war had begun, he dimly thought of the possibility of being taken and made to fight. He had thought at that time that his money would get him out of it. But things within the governments and the alliances had deteriorated so quickly that he was certain his only option was to hide out until things settled.

He remembered he had once been teased because of his short stature by a bully in the playground, and Nathaniel had stood up to him, and it had cause a huge fight between five boys. Five boys that were not Chuck Bass because Chuck Bass was hiding behind a large maple tree. Nathaniel had walked away with a scraped knee, a bloody nose, and a doting Blair. Chuck Bass promised himself he would never hide again and, here he was, decades later, hiding. Well, he wasn't going to hide anymore.

The time to be a hero was now, and he had a mission. A very specific mission to repay a long forgotten and long overdue favor.

The moment he stepped out onto the front porch, his coat flapped opened and he felt the cold air hit his face. Before him stood ten men on horses and several more on foot. There was two carriages and they all had guns.

The village was all out – he noticed some of his villagers had been arrested or drafted, call it what you might. There was women crying, and he knew exactly how many men were hiding. Old Jonas was standing with a long rifle in his hand, and he quickly walked to Chuck.

"On your orders, sir." He nodded to Chuck.

"At ease, soldier," Chuck replied and faced the Captain. "I assume you're not here for crackers and tea, or the fresh sea air."

The Captain's horse whined and stomped its foot. The Captain's mouth was hidden under a thick black mustache and a grim glare.

"Charles Bass, by the authority vested in me by the North American and European Alliance, I hereby request your services in the armed forces for five years, or until otherwise needed," he said automatically. "I also request the services of all the young men under the age of thirty that are able to serve without physical impediments."

Chuck stuck his hands in his pockets. "I can't account for other men, but I will gladly go with you if you are to leave my home, this village, and my family alone."

The Captain shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that, sir."

Chuck's nostrils flared.

"Section forty-one of the North American and European Alliance states that any supplies that can be afforded to the service of the armed forces can and will be confiscated for the use of the defense," he narrated.

"Are you going to leave these people to starve? Women and children? Elderly?" Chuck snapped, his eyes angry. "With winter coming?"

The Captain cocked his head. "The government will be distributing supplies and food on a daily basis –"

"Bread and water," Chuck interrupted him. "That's not food."

"These are hard times," the Captain grunted and motioned to his second in command. About seven men walked to the food storage building, and Chuck yelled for them to stop.

"Stand back!" The Captain shouted at him and pulled out his gun. This set many things in motion. For starters, Jonas cocked his weapon and pointed it at the Captain, which lead to five other soldiers pointing their guns at Jonas. Which led to some of Chuck's men pulling out their weapons and pointing them all at the soldiers and, before Chuck knew it, it was a Mexican stand off. Chuck's hands were up, pointing at Jonas and his men. They all stared at one another.

It was quiet as everyone stared at everyone else and no one backed down.

"Jonas…" Chuck commanded. "Down."

Slowly Jonas, glaring harshly at the Captain, lowered his rifle.

Chuck motioned to his other men. "Down."

The Captain nodded at his soldiers, and they all slowly put away their weapons.

"No one needs to get hurt," Chuck said. "I, for one, have been shot enough times to last me a lifetime."

The Captain nodded, agreeing.

"Take the food, and I will go quietly. But no one. No one. Gets hurt. _Including_ the women," his jaw twitched, and his eyes never left the captain, who slowly nodded, understanding what Chuck was saying.

The rest of the soldiers came out of the food storage with bags of food on their shoulders, and they threw in boxes and bags into one of the carts they carried. Chuck watched with hooded eyes.

Then three soldiers carefully walked forward to escort Chuck to where the rest of the men from the village were being held.

-----------

Blair dashed through he home with Dorota in tow, and her eyes scanned the surrounding area. That's where she spotted Jacob behind the front door, his eyes closed and his body slumped against the wood.

She walked to him with a determined stride.

"Where is he?" She demanded, and he instantly stood up and held her at arm's length.

"Shh!" He demanded, and that was when she knew. They were right outside. She walked around him and peered out of the window by the door, her eyes wide. There was Chuck, talking to a soldier on horseback that seemed to be in charge. They traded some power-struggle words, and she noticed how stiff Chuck's shoulders were. She was anxious as she watched him, and then she yelped when everyone seemed to suddenly pull out guns.

Jacob stood behind her and placed his hand over her mouth to prevent her from crying out. He assured her that Chuck would handle it, though he didn't seem too sure of himself.

Then the atmosphere relaxed, and Blair watched as bags and boxes were taken from the food storage while Chuck looked on angrily.

And then three soldiers came forward and escorted Chuck away, and she felt she would die right there and there. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment.

She pushed a startled Jacob off her and rushed to open the door, startling all the men who watched Chuck being pushed into the carriage.

"That's my husband!" She cried with all the strength her voice could muster.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, including Chuck. He stared at her with wide eyes as she ran to him. Her afghan flew off her shoulders and floated in the wind as she rushed down the stairs. Her hair, which had been in a loose bun, unhinged itself and cascades of brown curls fell down her back, and she thought that if this was his heroic moment, she could also have a heroine moment.

"That's my husband!" She repeated and rushed forward, pushing a stunned soldier aside and throwing herself on Chuck. He was as startled as everyone else, but before he was able to recuperate, the Captain had come to his senses. Dorota and Jacob had rushed out of the door and stared in horror.

"Stand back!" He yelled at her. "Stand back or you will be arrested for obstruction of justice!"

Blair held on tighter to Chuck. "No!" She yelled as one arm grabbed her waist and started pulling her off. "No!"

"Stop it!" Chuck cried, shaking himself out of his trance. "Get your hands off her!"

"Calm her down!" The Captain ordered to his soldiers. "Calm her - get her!"

"Miss Blair!" Dorota shouted, appalled at what they were doing to Blair, but Jonas held her back as baby Melanie continued to sob.

"Don't touch her!" Chuck demanded, pushing the man off with all of his might when he yanked Blair's hair back. "You son of a bitch!"

Chuck quickly grabbed Blair and held her to him, shielding her from the rest of the men.

"Give me a moment!" Chuck begged the Captain. "Let me say goodbye to my wife, please!"

The Captain stared at the shaking and crying Blair and finally nodded, his features hard and terse. "Five minutes," he informed themand moved his horse.

Chuck swallowed and pulled Blair to the side so they could have some privacy. She was shaking and crying.

"Listen to me – listen," his voice shook. "I need you to be brave. I need you look after all these people. I need you to." He pushed her hair back as she stared at him with wide eyes. "I need you to fight like the lioness I know you are."

Blair's face crumbled as her hands held onto his face, their breath on one another.

"I'll look after them… But who'll look after me?" She sobbed.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and held her there. "There are things I need to do."

She stared at him, breathing in and out. "You're going after him, aren't you?" She demanded. He said not a word because the answer was in his eyes.

He glanced at the crying baby in Dorota's arms. "I need you to look after the baby."

She swallowed and nodded.

"There's a secret food storage in the basement, don't let them take it," he whispered in her ear. "I will come back. I don't know when, I don't know how, but I will come back." He whispered. He touched her face. "Now… Kiss me like you love me."

She gasped. "I do love you."

His face fell, and her lips were on him, pouring all of the repressed love into it until she felt empty, like a deflated balloon.

He had heard her correctly. At least he thought he said. She had confessed her love. Twenty years of knowing her, and she was finally confessing love.

He held her closer because she was, at this moment, the most precious thing in the world to him. She pulled back and stared at him.

"Everything is under your name, you have complete jurisdiction over all my goods – "

"I never wanted it," she grasped at him.

"I gave it to you regardless –"

"Thirty seconds," the Captain shouted at them.

" – in case of anything –"

"Please, please don't go –" she begged.

"No choice this time," he attempted a smile, but it only made her cry harder. He touched her face. "I'll see you later."

"No!" She gasped and held on to him.

"Fifteen seconds!"

"Will you marry me?" He asked suddenly, and there was a certain desperation to his voice, as if this was the last time he would hold her, the last time he would feel her.

"I already have –"

"Not for the money, or for some fleeting emotion, but because we love one another – " he insisted.

"Yes, a million times yes! …You love me?" she asked confused.

He smiled and kissed her, his eyes were soft and very sad, and it broke her heart. Her heart was breaking at an astronomical pace.

"For years now."

She let out a sob and held on to him, and suddenly the soldiers were pulling him off, and she was making a completely unladylike spectacle as Jonas held her back. Chuck was pulled from her grasp, their fingers holding on by a thread, and then the touch was gone. He was being pulled away from her, her life, her soul. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe. She was going to collapse, she just knew it.

Their eyes were still locked as they shoved him into a carriage and his eyes remained on her as they moved the entire troop out of the village. She watched him; they watched one another, until his head was a dot in the horizon.

And then she fainted because life was too fucking sad.

------

To be continued

A/N - As you can see there's still story to tell; it's definetly going to be over 20 chapters despite my best efforts to condense all I had planned for the story. I think we still have like 3-4 chapters left. I think. Thank you all, once more for all the feedback, I hope you enjoy the coming episodes :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 20** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."  
__Captain Corelli's Mandolin_

His back hurt from all the jostling as they made their way down the cobbled and cold streets of Dundee. He was tired and hungry, and the visual of Blair screaming for him was invading his senses over and over again. She had looked so lost and small as Jonas held her at bay. Her eyes had followed him until she was no longer visible to him, and even then he knew she had watched still.

He'd left her – this time not of his own volition, not under his own terms, but under forced ones. There were other young men in the carriage with him, many from his village and from other villages, that looked starved and bedraggled. How many days had they spent huddled up and away from their loved ones? He didn't know. How long would it take to fix this? To fix this mess? Would Jacob carry out his orders? The orders he'd consulted with him before Blair had barged into his office and thrown herself at him? They hadn't worked out all the kinks of the plan, but he was assured that the man was competent enough to be able to work the hazy strategy. He'd never planned against a government – this was downright adventurous.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The cries of Nathaniel's child were still fresh in his mind and he was even more determined to find him regardless of how many nights he spent away from his Blair. He'd told her she was a lioness, and he believed that with all of his might. She would survive. She would make sure they all survived.

They were finally fed late that night, all clumped together in a long picnic table. Snow was falling, and it made the porridge cold and disgusting. But he was so hungry that he ate it with glaring eyes as the Captain enjoyed a warm stew of something he'd stolen from his own food stock. He'd recognize that beef scent anywhere.

They had to wash it all down with water, water that made him gag because he was pretty sure they had stuffed it full of vitamin supplements to keep them semi-healthy. The night was spent clustered in groups of five: five men, three blankets. The cold brought the reality crashing down around him as he shivered in his coat. Blair's scent still surrounded him as he stared straight ahead; focused on what he had to do. He couldn't go home until his task was done.

That's how he spent the next few nights, which turned into weeks, which turned into a month. And the weather began to get warmer and that's when he realized, in the midst of the endless days of boat rides and supposed training, that they were heading south.

His mornings were spent waking at 5am and doing routine exercise, which left him hungry and even more tired than before. They would feed them porridge, sometimes hard toast and eggs. Loads of eggs. He was pretty sure something was wrong with the eggs, but he was so very hungry he didn't question it. Then, if they were not on a boat, they would march. March for hours to an unnamed destination. During those marches, he began to see the real world. The real world outside his private jets, his Scottish fairytale land, and his endless supply of cash. Outside was the real thing, and it was awful. So awful that he often entranced himself in memories of his childhood and of Blair in order to maintain his sanity.

There were starving people everywhere; there were injured people and utter devastation anywhere and everywhere they went.

When people of a town or a city saw the soldiers, they would clamor to them, begging for goods, protection, or news of a loved one that had been sent off to war and had not been heard from.

Chuck, now in a generic uniform like the rest, was often grabbed by thin and frail women begging for news of their husbands or children or brothers… It was all too much, and there was only so much time he could spend hiding inside his mind. He talked to some of the men, some of the time. For the most part he focused on what he had to find; on _who_ he had to find.

If Nathaniel was somewhere in this mess, he had to find him, had to bring him home. He had to save him.

-------

When she woke, she was in their bed; the curtains were drawn, and she heard nothing. Absolute silence or absolute mourning? She didn't know – all she knew was that her heart was missing. Someone had cut it out, like some old Indian tale of missing organs that were removed when in mourning to free a spirit. Yet her spirit still felt stifled and lost. Not free, but abandoned. Not happy and carefree, but destroyed.

She rolled over in her bed, inhaling his scent still embedded in the pillows, and slept.

She didn't really see the purpose of eating. Eating kept her alive, and she was nothing without him. So she went back to sleep.

On the eve of the fourth day, Dorota barged into the room with a protesting Jacob behind her and pulled her covers off her body, making up sit up and eat a chicken broth. Blair let half of it drip down her chin as she looked at her with wide, watery eyes.

"Be alive when he come back," Dorota reminded her, and Blair decided she might as well slurp a little bit more. Once she was done, Dorota dragged her to the shower as scrubbed her while Blair sniffled and sobbed, her pale body shivering in the water as she pressed herself against the cold tile.

When Dorota pulled her out and wrapped her in a robe, she saw that the sheets of the bed had been changed. That sent her into hysterics. She cursed all the help and demanded that they leave her alone. So she slept and didn't wake unless she had to pee. On the fifth day, a rare and distinct sound penetrated her thoughts. Her mindless thoughts, foggy and full of depressed sleep.

It was a cry.

She sat up slowly and looked to the side of the bed. There, by her bed, was the small crib and, inside, was Melanie sobbing uncontrollably. Next to the baby was a diaper and a warm bottle of milk.

Blair limped out of the bed, pulling the sheet around her body, and peered in on the child.

It was bigger than she remembered.

The baby stopped crying when she came into her line of vision, and Blair snuggled her into back into her sheet. She knew she was a mess, hair uncombed, teeth not brushed, smelly and gross.

The baby opened her eyes and stared back at Blair, flailing her small arms towards Blair and whimpered.

She was dressed in a little nappy and pink socks. Nothing else. The nappy looked thick and… yellow.

"Dorota!" She croaked. She stumbled to the door, and the child began to cry anew. "Dorota!"

Nothing. The house seemed quiet and empty. She stumbled out into the hallway and looked around.

The child shrieked, making Blair's head spin. She walked back to it, dropping her quilt and looking down at it.

"Can you please be quiet, I have a headache," Blair begged.

The baby kicked her little pale legs and whimpered, her small arms waiving in the air. Her lower lip stuck out and pulled on Blair's heartstrings.

The poor little thing was left motherless.

"_Take care of my baby… Please… Please…."_

She heard Vanessa's dying words and crumbled. She reached out and touched the baby, who stared at her with glassy, wide blue eyes.

"You're going to be ok, ok?" She whispered and, with trembling hands, reached out and unhooked the nappy, scrunching her face at the distinct smell of urine. The baby seemed to sigh in relief as she removed the wet item.

"Yeah, that's gross," she remarked and threw the dirty thing in the sink. She walked back to the baby, who was looking around her and crying still. She reached out and grabbed the dry diaper and attempted to slip it on the child. After a few failed attempts, she got it loosely on her waist. The baby was still unhappy, and Blair decided to reach in and pick her up, and this was apparently a step towards the right direction because the baby instantly snuggled against her.

Blair looked around and picked up a blankie inside of the small crib, placing it around the small pink form and warming her.

She then reached in and grabbed the bottle left for her. It was nice and warm and, while turning the baby, she placed the bottle against the baby's open mouth. The little girl eagerly grasped the bottle with her mouth and the crying and fidgeting instantly stopped. Her eyes dropped closed and she nestled into Blair's arms, making contented noises as she suckled on the milk. Blair instinctively rocked her back and forth, soothing the child.

Slowly but surely, the child fell asleep when only a third was left of her milk, and Blair gently pulled the bottle out of her mouth. Baby Melanie made soft sounds and her little hand reached out and grasped Blair's robe. Blair gulped and held her closer.

She had promised Vanessa she would care for this child like it was her own. Melanie was now her responsibility until Nate came and, even then, who knew how messed up he would be? What if he was so distraught because of the things he'd seen and done that he wouldn't be able to care for this child? What if he never made it back?

Her stomach felt hollow and empty, and she realized she had less food in her stomach than baby Melanie had a minute ago. She was starving herself. Chuck had left her in charge, he'd asked to care for the baby, to care of the village, to be a lioness… And here she was, wallowing in her room and starving herself. She grunted as she shook off the last remains of her grief. He _was_ going to come back to her. Maybe not today, perhaps not tomorrow, most definitely not next week, but he would. He would come to her… To them.

She looked down at the baby, who was now cooing in her sleep.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered. "I'll take care of you – just like I promised."

She bent down and kissed the soft, fuzzy head, and the baby murmured in her sleep. Blair held her closer.

That evening, while the baby slept by her bed, she showered and combed her hair, which was dirty and gross. She managed to grab a maid and explain she was going down to dinner. Dorota came soon after – most likely the information that Lady Bass was ready for the public had reached her – and helped her dress in simple khakis and a sweater. The army had taken a lot of their firewood, so the home felt colder and would stay as such until they could re-supply their stock.

That was when Blair began calculating to keep herself busy and distracted from the fact that her husband was out at a war that was impossible to win

During dinner that night (she forced Jacob, Dorota, her mother and Ruby to have dinner with her), she laid out a plan. She wanted to see the hidden food storage that Chuck had mentioned in the basement, and Jacob assured her they had enough food there for three months. For the entire village, but no more. But three months was enough for them to make more.

After setting up a game plan, Dorota reminded her that they needed to hold a small service for Vanessa, and Blair, with a heavy heart, nodded. The baby had been placed in a small basin, and she slept next to Blair while they all ate. She was afraid of leaving the small child alone.

So the next morning (and after a restless night due to Melanie waking every two hours to be fed and rocked), Blair, dressed in black and with the baby wrapped in a dark sheet, made it to the small hill by the home where Jonas and Mr. Grant lowered a coffin with Vanessa's body into a hole in the ground. A few of the housemaids came to pay their condolences, including Susana, whom Blair thanked once more. She had no words to say really – it wasn't like they had been friends. Yet, this non-friend had entrusted the care of her most precious thing to Blair. Jacob said some generic words, and the dirt was thrown over the wooden coffin. Dorota turned to her and handed her a napkin, which Blair took, balancing Melanie in her arms. The napkin revealed the once coveted Archibald ring. Blair sighed and closed her eyes, looking down at the wide-awake Melanie, whose blue eyes were inquisitive and aware.

"It'll be hers one day…" Blair whispered. "Put it somewhere safe," she told Jacob, handing him the ring, and the faithful manservant nodded reverently.

She watched that day as her old room was aired and cleaned; a religious maid prayed over it and requested that any evil spirit leave it. Blair let her do what she had to do in order to feel at ease. Once it was 'cleansed' in every way possible, Blair informed them that she wanted it transformed into a nursery for Melanie and the doors to the connected hallway to be removed.

That night, she settled the baby in her little pink pajamas, and Melanie cooed at her, eyes wide and questioning. She felt bad leaving her in the small crib by herself, so she took the small bundle and placed her on the bed. She curled her body around the newborn and watched as she slowly went to sleep, placing all of her trust in Blair, someone who had never in her life cared for children.

That was her routine that month. She would care for Melanie regardless of whether she knew what she was doing or not. Dorota didn't mind the fifty questions. She noticed Ruby stayed away from her, so Blair called her over, and the little girl peered in on the baby.

"Is she yours now?" She asked Blair.

Blair smiled, pulling the little hat they had brought for Melanie down over her small ears.

"I suppose she is," Blair told Ruby, who wanted to see how she fed the baby. Blair showed her, and Ruby was quite taken with the baby. It was all she would talk about.

"Can we change her clothes now?" Ruby would ask.

"No, I just changed her," Blair told her, softly burping Melanie.

"But when is she going to try all the clothes?" Ruby asked, irked.

"Soon enough," Blair smiled at her. Ruby became her little helper. Her favorite time was bath time because Blair would let her sponge the baby with the warm water, and Melanie loved kicking the water.

"Her hair is growing," Ruby commented, touching the baby's brown locks softly.

Blair nodded, slipping the little socks onto her feet despite Melanie kicking and following Ruby's every move.

"When Lord Bass comes back, do you think he'll be her daddy?" Ruby asked.

Blair stopped what she was doing and picked up the baby.

"I told you, Lord Bass is looking for the baby's daddy," Blair explained.

"But what if he doesn't find him? What if he's lost – like my daddy?" Ruby asked, her innocent eyes studying Blair's reaction.

Blair gulped. "We'll see what happens then."

--------

When Chuck woke up on the forty-third night of being away from home instantly knowing something was wrong. He felt it in the air. He quickly stood, attempting to ignore the cramping in his legs, and wobbled outside of their makeshift tent. It was dawning and they were somewhere in Greece – at least that was where he thought they were. He'd lost count of the countries. They could be in Turkey. Closer and closer to his target.

There was fog all over the bushes that surrounded their make shift camp and, in the early dawn hours, the cold cut through his ratty coat. He walked around; some soldiers were awake but the majority was asleep. He saw the imposing Captain staring off into the foggy morning.

"Didn't peg you for an early riser, Bass," he quipped and inhaled from his cigar. Chuck stared at the man's cigar. He hadn't had one in months. He silently cursed his fate – there was a time in this world when men like him would never associate with men like the Captain. He was above this, but he had to swallow the pride he'd been born with and consider the man his equal – even his superior.

"Something woke me," Chuck ground out, pulling his coat around his figure.

"Something?" The Captain asked. "Something like what?"

Chuck shrugged. "I don't know…"

But the moment he said it, a loud, hard explosion landed around them, throwing Chuck ten feet from where he was standing and slamming him against a large tree. He coughed and groaned, attempting to stand up. His head hurt, and he was pretty sure something was broken because his arm was killing him. But his attempt to stand was thwarted by an entire tent falling on top of him. He remembered hearing screams and gunshots and yelling.

For a moment he wondered if he had died, because he swore he heard Blair next to him, telling him pointless things. About a baby and a diaper rash.

--------

She sat up startled in bed, her heart crying that something was wrong. Something was wrong. Her eyes zoomed in on the crib, and she found Melanie sleeping peacefully next to her, her little chest rising and falling as she made diminutive happy sounds in her sleep.

Blair stood and walked to her, making sure she was alright, but the feeling wouldn't leave. Melanie seemed to sense her distress and woke, whimpering a bit. Blair quickly picked her up and pressed the small, warm body against her chest, rocking her back and forth.

The baby's presence soothed her, and Blair attempted to distract herself with the child, changing her diaper and feeding her until the baby was ready to go back to sleep. Blair watched her for a while, studying her little hands and toes until her own eyes became heavy and sleep ridden. She finally crawled back to her bed, but her thoughts still raced.

"Chuck…" she spoke to the pillow next to her, the one that subbed in for her husband's absence. "Come back to me."

--------

_Come back to me_.

The words were spoken in his dreams, he was sure, but they were so desperate and real that they startled him awake. All he saw was green. He blinked and realized he was buried under yards and yards of green tent. He pushed at them with his hand until some of it came off, and then other hands were pulling them off him.

"Bass, son of a bitch – he's alive!" A man cried. And then he saw faces and light.

"Are you hurt?" They asked him, and Chuck shook his head. His head hurt, and that was all he could manage.

"You look better than half the men here." Another offered him a hand and pulled him up. Chuck noticed that his arm was badly bruised but not broken, and he had a nasty scrape on his elbow. His head was pounding, and he knew it was bleeding.

"You may need a few stitches," one of them said, motioning to his eyebrow, and Chuck tore a piece of his jacket and pressed it to his face. Around him was utter devastation: men were scattered and dead, some he even recognized from his own village. He closed his eyes against the death and followed the other men towards the front of the camp.

"The captain's dead," one mentioned and, sure enough, the same man with whom Chuck had shared a few words was now lying open-eyed on the floor.

"They're sending a copter to get us out, in a minute – you're lucky we found you when we did, or you would've been left behind!" They told him and, sure enough, a helicopter arrived not ten minutes later and the fourteen men left alive from the team were airlifted.

The cold wind hit Chuck's face, and he sighed. He always had enjoyed flying, even as a child. The air that surrounded him, the whole image of seeing the world like no one was seeing it, always got to him. Plus, in the air, the smell of blood wasn't so very potent. A man in the corner of the craft was yelling and crying… His leg was missing. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. He'd been in Japan and seen the same scene, but with children. His jaw tightened, and he looked away.

They landed on a military base, and the injured, which was all of them, were taken to infirmary. As he waited for his brow to be stitched up, a lovely-looking nurse found him pen and paper. Apparently the Bass charm still worked its magic.

He stared at the piece of paper before him. The likelihood of Blair receiving this letter was slim to none, but wanted to do it regardless.

It had been over a month since she'd heard anything from him. He could imagine she was worried. She would be putting on a brave face, but he'd known her long enough to know that she would crumble when alone. So he took a breath and wrote.

_Dear Blair,_

He stared at her name. He'd written her a letter once. He had been six years old, and he confessed how pretty she was and how he would like to hug her. Now, nearly two decades letter, he attempted to explain what he felt on a blank and plain piece of paper. Chuck Bass was no poet. He didn't get inspired unless it was in the moment. He didn't throw meaningful words around unless they were aimed at destroying or conquering. But he wanted, in a few words, to assure her that he was fine, that he missed her and would give nearly anything to be with her instead of some camp in Turkey.

_I don't know if you'll even read this letter, or when we will even speak again, but I wanted to tell you I am fine and alive. I miss you everyday, and I want this to be all over so that I can find my way back to you. If you keep a candle lit for me, baby, I'll always find my way back to you._

_Love always, your husband,_

_Charles Bass_

He re-read the letter a hundred times before deciding to seal it and trying to get it to her. But there was no post office and nowhere to send it to, so he carefully folded it and placed it in the inside of his pocket.

After he was stitched up and sent over to report to the commander, he took a look around. He was a million miles from nowhere, a million miles away from her, and it was sickening what it was doing to his stomach. The commander's tent was ahead, and he swiftly entered it, holding his head high, despite being all bandaged up and so tired that he could sleep a week (in her arms).

Inside the tent there was a large strategy table and two men, wearing hats bent over it and talking.

"Private, you lost?" The elder man asked, raising his head.

Chuck's jaw twitched.

"I could be," he replied, and the man's face darkened. The other man raised his head, and Chuck froze. It was none other than Kevin fucking Gilbert.

Kevin instantly recognized him, and a smile broke over his overly handsome face.

"Bass!" He cried, walking around the table and quickly offering his hand in greeting. Chuck stopped for a beat and shook it back, staring back at the man.

"Gilbert," Chuck nodded.

Kevin looked him over with wide eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What are we all?" Chuck drawled.

"Son," the elder man demanded from behind Kevin and the young man paused, glancing at his father.

"Father, this is Charles Bass, of Bass Enterprises," Kevin motioned to Chuck, and Chuck saw the man's expression quickly change.

"Oh, of course – come on in, Bass," he nodded.

"Bass, this is my father, Major Oslo Gilbert – we've been in Turkey for a few days now," Kevin explained, and Chuck nodded to the Major.

"I've just arrived, we were over Greece when we were attacked. My Captain was killed," Chuck told him, gratefully taking a seat across from Kevin.

"You were in Reynolds' sector, were you? I didn't expect to see you here. I'd figured you'd hide," Kevin grimly, his brows furrowed as he removed his cap and ran his fingers over his hair.

"I did," Chuck replied grimly. "Unfortunately, there were technicalities."

Kevin nodded. "And your wife?"

Chuck's jaw snapped. "She's safe."

Kevin nodded. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Move me. I need to be in the 105th infantry division. Any chance of that happening?" Chuck asked him, his eyes boring into him.

Kevin's eyes widened slightly, and the Major frowned.

"Why the hell would you want to do that? Don't you want to go home to your wife?" The major asked.

Chuck's eyes were still hard. "More than anything… But I have a friend there. I need to get to the 105th."

Kevin studied him and glanced at his father, who offered Chuck a cigar, which Chuck gratefully took.

"How about I make you a deal, Bass?" The Major spoke up.

Chuck cocked a brow.

"You invest just 10 percent of that money of yours in my sector, and I'll make it worth your while." The Major's eyes were as stony as his father's used to be. Chuck knew this game very well.

"How about I make it 7.5 percent and you have yourself a deal," Chuck replied and the man's eyes crinkled slightly.

"You drive a hard bargain, young Bass – but I admire that," he nodded. "Get him a blue pass," the Major snapped to his son, and Chuck attempted the hide his overly excited heart from showing all of his emotions.

A blue pass. They were rumored to be true, but he'd never really met anyone who had one. Blue Passes were held for dignitaries, presidents, religious leaders. A blue pass got you through any zone, in any part of the world at any time. Immunity from the war.

"It'll be a few days," Kevin reminded his father, and the Major nodded.

"Young Bass has time then to get me the 7.5 percent, eh? He can also shower and perhaps change into something more suitable." The Major nodded at Chuck's clothes.

"Get me a line, and I'll have my people deliver," Chuck stood, and the Major lit up his cigar.

-------

Jacob stirred as the door to his room was opened and bolted up with wide eyes.

The form next to him stirred.

"Jacob?" She asked, but Jacob's eyes were trained on the figure by the door.

"Jefferson?" Jacob asked, confused.

The elderly man nodded. "Sir, a line for you."

"Bass?" Jacob asked, quickly slipping on a shirt and walking to Jefferson.

"I believe so, sir," he whispered. "I didn't want to wake the Lady so I thought –"

"You thought right," Jacob assured him and slipped on his glasses, glancing back to Dorota, who was looking at him with wide, questioning blue eyes, her long blonde hair pooled around her. He took a breath and followed Jefferson out.

--------

Chuck hung up the line phone and stared at Kevin. He nodded.

"It's been done," He announced, and Kevin smiled.

"Money _can_ save you, apparently," Kevin joked.

Chuck smirked. "Money can always save you." He repeated the words that his father had often imbedded in his soul. He reached into his coat and fingered the letter he held there.

"I need a favor from you, Gilbert."

Kevin stared at him, confused.

"I'm not going home with this blue pass… Not yet," Chuck said grimly and quietly. "I have something I need to do… But I need you to deliver something to Blair."

"In Scotland?" Kevin asked.

Chuck nodded. "My man is under strict instructions not to let her know he spoke to me… I don't want to give her false hope. We both know I'm going to a place people have not been seen or heard from again."

"I ask you to reconsider," Kevin insisted.

Chuck slowly shook his head and handed Kevin the letter. His thin letter.

"Just make sure she's alright…" Chuck said and looked away. "And you were wrong, by the way."

Kevin slowly nodded, taking the letter. "I'm glad, Bass. For your sake, I'm glad."

Chuck stood and, at that moment, the explosions started again and people started running around as the Major shouted orders and mobilized the people around him.

Kevin pulled Chuck towards a waiting helicopter and shoved him inside.

"I beg you to reconsider!" He shouted above the noise around them.

Chuck's hair flew wildly in the wind, and he shook his head, his thick black coat billowing around him.

"There are things a man must do before returning home!" Chuck explained as the copter's blades swung to full force.

Kevin met his eyes and slowly nodded, holding the letter in his hand. "I will find her –"

Chuck nodded and gestured to the pilot of the helicopter with his hand. The copter took off the ground as Chuck stared down at the war going on around Kevin's figure, and the man stared back at him with the letter in his hand.

---------

To be continued


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 21** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE - PLEASE READ: OK, as many of you have pointed out in the last chapter, apparently there was a resemblance to Atonement. As I've never seen the film I'm kinda sad that this happened, it was not my intention. I might go back and edit out that line and change it so please understand that it was not a reference to a film or book I have never seen/read. Thank you!**

-----------

"_There are only four questions of value in life.  
__What is sacred?  
__Of what is the spirit made of?  
__What is worth living for?  
__What is worth dying for?  
__The answer to each is the same. Only love."  
__Don Juan Demarco_

"I assume you're here with that determined look on your face because you need something?" He asked her, and she smirked, walking in slowly with Hera whining behind her.

Jonas was on wood cut duty and had collected three large fifty-count piles. Blair nodded at them approvingly. He set down his ax and leaned against one of the piles, staring at her.

"State your purpose, Mrs. Bass," he said, and she looked away, pulling her thick coat around her tighter.

"I need you to teach me something," she replied.

He raised a brow and waited for her to explain.

She shifted her feet. Girls like her never had to do these things; girls like her watched film of this happening. Yet here she was, a girl like her, asking things like this.

"I need you to teach me how to shoot," she barked out and almost huffed because this was_ so_ not something she wanted to do. But because her husband was out on some noble adventure, she had no choice.

He smirked, and she glared at him. He slowly walked back inside his cabin and came out with a long rifle in his hand and puffs of winter smoke surrounding him.

"C'mon, Princess – you're going to be a woman today," he said, and she reluctantly followed him over the hill – the same hill Chuck had taken her on their first ride, that first magical ride.

-------

Chuck braced himself when the service vehicle came to a stop in front of what looked like an abandoned camp. He nodded at the driver as he hopped off, and the jeep sped off.

Three months. He'd been traveling for three months since he had last seen Gilbert, and the blue pass had saved his ass countless times. The worse had been when he and his escort had unwittingly fallen into an enemy camp. They had been saved by the skin of their teeth as he waved the blue pass in his shaky hand. The rifle had been removed from his mouth and they had let him go, but not before stealing his coat. He had not been happy about it.

Now here he was, two months after that incident, and he thought he'd finally arrived at the right camp. Camp Lowell. The Camp with the highest mortality rate in the entire eastern division. No one could say who was alive and who was dead. Leave it to Nathaniel to get himself assigned to _this_ camp in particular. He shook his head in near disgust. He had forgotten how very clueless his friend could be. How Chuck had been the brains behind the stunning golden boy. Just like Blair. At times, Nathaniel was nearly a puppet. What Blair and Chuck wanted out of him they usually got. Same with Serena who, though a party-bitch, could be easily manipulated in her BD era. BD meaning Before Dan.

"_Has Blair called you?" Nate asked him, his brows furrowed as he scratched his head and studied his cell phone. _

_Chuck Bass, no older than fourteen, eyed the 21 year old waitress as she winked his way. _

"_She might've called," Chuck answered distractedly. _

"_Did she say if she wanted me to go to the charity auction? I can't remember."_

_Chuck stopped his blatant admiration of the woman's perfectly shaped breasts and turned to his friend. "I find myself often in the middle of a relationship that is not my own."_

_Nate was confused. Of course he was._

_Chuck rolled his eyes and took a sip of his new favorite drink. Scotch. He didn't know why he hadn't tried it before._

"_Yes, she called, and yes she wants you to go to the charity thing. It's rumored to be the most boring thing since the Clinton scandal," he snapped._

_Nate nodded, thinking this over. "Hey, maybe you can go instead! I promised Serena I was going to go with her to the Hamptons for Cece's party."_

_Chuck raised his brow once more, a cynical smile plastered on his lips. Honestly, sometimes Nathaniel was too easy._

"_Replacement date?" He inquired._

"_C'mon, you and Blair are pretty close, she won't mind – do me this favor, man. I'll owe you big time," Nate pleaded, and finally Chuck nodded, staring at his happy friend as he quickly texted Serena the new plans. It's not that Chuck had wanted Blair and Nathaniel to break up, it's that they were his best friends, and he wanted them to realize that they weren't meant for one another. She didn't make him happy, and he certainly didn't make her happy. Blair was always pouting, plotting, and crying. Nate was always gloomy, brooding, and sad. _

_So when he showed up at Blair's foyer with a smirk firmly in place and a crisp gray suite and snazzy sea green bowtie, she glowered at him. _

"_Bass, go away! Nate and I have a date, and I don't do threesomes," she snapped at him, her green dress floating around her, showing off her slender shoulders. _

_His smirk had widened. "Well, since you brought up the threesome idea, there is a lovely red head I saw. Or we can invite Dorota, because Nathaniel is riding the jitney as we speak."_

_Blair scoffed. "He isn't! And eww!"_

"_He so is," Chuck rounded her, his shoes making clicking noises on the floor. "Call him, if you don't believe me."_

_Her little nostrils flared, and he admitted to himself that they were adorable._

"_Well, then I refuse to go," she huffed._

"_Don't be a spoiled brat. I have the limo waiting, and you know you __love__ the limo." His smirk widened. _

"_I do not!" She snapped._

"_You do too!" He countered as they walked to the elevator._

"_It's disgusting. I wouldn't stay there longer than I had to, much less do anything of importance in it." _

"_I happen to find the limo quite comfy."_

_Nate never found out what happened. He never really asked. Chuck and Blair actually had a pretty good time. There was scandal - Mr. Donahue proclaimed he was a transvestite in front of the entire Upper East Side. Scandalizing many, confusing many more. _

"_I'm no longer worried about my sexuality," he whispered to her in his low, throaty voice. She arched a brow at him. "What can I say? I always thought he had great legs."_

_Her laugh was heard across the room, and that secretly made something funny happen to his stomach._

Chuck walked carefully around the fallen debris and the obvious pieces of human flesh all over the ground. The stench was overwhelming, and he had to stop to barf by a tree, digging his fingers into the bark as he balanced himself and emptied what was left of his breakfast.

He grimaced and wiped his mouth, then continued trekking through the camp.

"Hello!" He cried. "Hello!" He stumbled on some abandoned pots and pans, making a huge racket.

"Hey! Freeze, motherfucker!"

Chuck instantly stopped, raising his hands in the air. He'd had entirely too many encounters with crazy soldiers left abandoned by the alliance to know better than to mess with them. He froze, eyes focused on the figure moving ahead.

The air was so chilly around him that a puff of smoke came out of his mouth.

He moved his arm to wave to the man and, before he knew it, a gun was aimed at his face.

"I told you to freeze, you white cracker. You think I'm joking, eh – fag? I'll blow your brains, I'll blow them right out your fucking ears!" The large man was shouting at his face, pressing the gun barrel against Chuck's cheekbone.

Chuck remained still, eyeing the man coolly.

"Who are you – what the fuck you doing in Camp Low-hell?" The soldier continued shouting. "And I'll know if you're lying, I'll send your white ass where people like you should've stayed!"

"Chuck Bass, citizen." Chuck explained, his arms still in the air. "I'm looking for –"

"You ain't not fucking citizen! I ain't seen no fucking citizen in five fucking months, you think I believe your lying ass? You think cause I'm black I'm stupid? Well, I've got news for you, pretty boy. This your last moment – this your last hope!"

"I'm looking for Corporal Archibald!" Chuck yelled as the man cocked his gun.

The man stopped, his red rimmed eyes studying Chuck, inspecting all inches of his face.

"Yeah, yeah – you look like a rich boy," the man spat at him. "But I don't care who you know, baby – you're dead, you fucking dead –"

But his radio beeped, and the man stopped.

"Olan? Fuck, Olan are you still there?"

Chuck's stomach froze. That was Nathaniel's voice. He'd know that voice anywhere. His eyes met the man.

"I got a bug, Sir – going to eliminate," Olan replied into the radio, his gun still imbedded in Chuck's face.

"Bring him," Nate said over the radio. "And stop fucking around."

Olan glared at Chuck and grabbed him, yanking him against a tree and cuffing his hands. Chuck grunted as he was shoved face-forward into the tree.

He'd been arrested a total of seven times as a teenager and once as an adult. This treatment? He was used to it.

"C'mon, cracker – Corporal most likely shoot you himself!"

Chuck didn't doubt it.

Olan dragged him through the rest of the camp, tripping over the bodies of soldier. Olan continued as if he didn't even see them while Chuck tried to hold off the gags. The smell was overwhelming and it was making him dry heave.

"Suck it up, boy!" Olan yelled at him.

They went down a tall, dry hill, sand going into Chuck's fine shoes while Olan trotted ahead, undisturbed. Chuck was apprehensive. The closer they got to their destination, the more explosions he heard. Over and over. Olan sensed his trepidation.

"Yeah, it ain't pretty," he mumbled, but Chuck heard him. The cuffs were tight around his wrist and they cut into his skin. He grimaced, but continued through the sandy dunes until ahead he saw a giant ditch filled with tents with men scurrying about. He let out a breath.

Olan dragged him in and soldiers, all bloodied and hardened by the war, glared at him.

"Where the fuck you pick this shit up?" They asked Olan.

"Says he knows the Corporal," Olan snapped and one man spit in Chuck's face, making Chuck's jaw twitch while he glared at him.

"Fucking rich boy!"

"Didn't even bring no fucking beer."

Chuck's eyes stung when one of them threw sand at his face, and he dimly heard Olan pushing the man off as he cried out against the sting. He felt himself being shoved somewhere and then his back was harshly pressed against a pole and his hands un-cuffed. He was tied to that same pole and made to sit down on the floor. He yelled when they tightened the rope around his wrists and shoved his head. One even kicked him in the ribs, and he let out a huff as the air was knocked out of him.

"Lets see how much the Corporal likes you, cracker, and then we'll see if you live or fucking die."

------

Blair smiled as Melanie grabbed her foot and attempted to stuff it in her mouth. She was in Eleanor's lap as her mother coddled her. She could never remember the baby's name and kept calling her Blair. Blair figured it was a good sign.

"No, Blair – be a lady," her mother chided the baby.

"Mom, let her be – she's a baby," Blair said as she continued her knitting lessons with Dorota. She was truly not born to knit, but as the winter went on and the scarcity of supplies continued, people needed clothing and, during their down time after dinner, the women would attempt to knit all they could.

"She doesn't sit very well, does she?" Eleanor asked, sniffing at the child.

"She's barely five months old!" Blair laughed. "She can't sit up on her own."

Eleanor didn't look impressed, as if five months was a perfectly reasonable time to start sitting up and stop chewing on one's body parts. Melanie cooed loudly and let out a watery laugh when Cat passed by her and tickled her bare foot with his raised tail.

"I can't do this. I just can't!" Blair finally snapped and threw down her knitting needles, glaring at them.

Dorota ignored her outburst and continued dutifully with her knitting, speaking her lesson instead to Ruby, who was quite the fast learner. Blair stood and walked to her mother. Once the baby saw her, her eyes widened and she raised her hands to Blair. Blair bent and quickly took the baby, who smiled happily.

Blair kissed her head softly and held her, rocking her back and forth.

Eleanor was looking up at her curiously. "Is she yours?"

Blair thought about this for a moment. "Yes. Yes, she is."

Eleanor nodded in approval. "Good, because I didn't want a baby – I'm too young, you know."

Blair tried not to smile, so she nodded to her mother, walking her baby to the window that faced the village.

Five months. Her heart was in remission. Lacking his love was eating her alive. The only thing that kept her going was the child in her arms, her unconditional love, and the fact that Blair needed to care for her all the time.

He was somewhere out there, being brave or whatever he needed or felt he needed to do. She knew this was no longer about her or about them. This was all about him. His need to find some sort of forgiveness for what had happened in the past. If she had asked him to stay, demanded he stayed, he would've left her eventually. The guilt would have consumed him.

He would never have been happy, no matter how many kisses she offered or how close she held him at night.

You can't hold the mind.

A soft knock interrupted the women, and Ruby stood from her careful knitting and opened the door slightly. There stood Jefferson, the old butler of the home. Most people didn't know this, but Jefferson used to be Chuck's old butler in New York. The man had seen Chuck go through all of his life stages, more than his father probably had.

He'd seen the lonely little boy, the arrogant teenager, and finally the man he had become. Jefferson was quite fond of Blair, always gentle with her and informing her of things secretly on the side.

"Ma'am. Jacob's presence was requested in town. There's a man there looking for you. He's just left."

"Left?" Dorota asked, alarmed. Blair walked to Jefferson and nodded, thanking him.

"It could be anyone," Blair whispered almost to herself.

They all knew the ride to the town by them was nearly an hour's ride, so it would be a couple of hours before Jacob would be back with any news whatsoever.

By then, Melanie began to fuss and, once Ruby had helped Blair bathe the baby and clothed her in warm pink pajamas, Blair set to rock her to sleep in the nursery. Once Melanie was sleeping peacefully in Blair's arms, Dorota knocked on the door. Blair nodded at her and carefully set her baby down, covering her with a knit blankie Dorota had made for her. It was a soft lilac and had clouds designed along the edges. Melanie murmured in her sleep, and Blair bent down to kiss her soft, fuzzy head.

Blair followed Dorota out the door and stared at her old maid.

"He back. Brought the man," Dorota informed her and Blair nodded, leading the way to the dining room where Dorota told her the men where.

It was late at night by then, nearing 11pm, so the house staff was mostly gone home and those who were left had retired to their quarters. Blair entered the dining room and smiled at Jacob, who quickly turned to greet her, and then looked past him and a small gasp fell from her lips.

"Mr. Gilbert!" Blair cried when she saw the man bent over a large bowl of steaming beef stew.

Kevin instantly stopped eating, wiping his mouth, and stood to greet her.

"Blair," he said, smiling as brightly as ever. Blair walked to him, her eyes widened when she saw his uniform.

"Where's Chuck?" She demanded. What if this was a sick way of informing her that she'd been left a widow? She couldn't handle the waiting.

Kevin blanched and nodded. "Last I saw of him was in Turkey, and he was fine and alive. A bit banged up, but still snappy."

Blair let out a breath, and all the tension she had been holding in the past few months flew off her shoulders. She nearly lost her balance in relief, but Jacob caught her and, between him and Dorota, they helped her sit. Kevin watched her carefully.

"I do apologize. I've just been so very worried…" she whispered and nodded at the glass of water Jacob poured for her.

Kevin looked down and nodded.

"H-he asked me to deliver this to you, personally… And look after you until he could make it back," Kevin said and pulled from his coat a bent and crinkled letter.

Blair stared at it.

"Where is he now?" She whispered, staring at the letter as if it would be the last she would ever heard from Chuck.

Kevin cleared his throat. "Saudi Arabia… searching for –"

"Nate," Blair finished for him. Her heart was slowly informing her of the endless possibilities. "Tell me, Mr. Gilbert… Has any man come back from there?"

She visibly saw him swallow and already knew everything she needed to hear. She nodded, holding back the tears that she had not let escape all these months. She reached out and took the letter from Kevin's hands, feeling the paper in her fingers, and stood and walked out.

------

He nearly growled against the pole. He pulled, but the knots were held tight and he was barely able to see. He blinked against the sand stuck on his lashes. He sat silently on the ground, his eyes slowly letting him see around him as the explosions and yelling continued outside.

He wondered if they would even tell Nathaniel he was there. He wondered many things sitting there in the semi-darkness, listening to the horrible sounds of war around him. He wondered if they would forget him when the bombs fell closer and closer, and he would die stuck to a pole with sand in his lashes.

He was nearly falling asleep. It had been three hours since he'd been taken there. He had yelled for a while, and they had ignored him, even threatened to gag him. And here he was, three hours later, still waiting for a voice he'd heard on the radio.

Finally, as the sun was setting, a figure entered the tent. He blinked and looked up, his eyes adjusting to the light that the figure brought into the dark tent.

The figure let the cloth drop behind him, taking a step inside, and pulled out a flashlight. The flashlight was pointed at Chuck's face, and he was temporarily blinded.

"C-chuck?"

He let out a breath. "Nathaniel."

Nate came closer, taking the light off Chuck's eyes and Chuck's own eyes widened when he saw his childhood friend.

"Nathaniel?" Chuck asked again, because he couldn't believe it.

Nate had always been the good-looking kid: the golden boy. Blair had been unable to take her eyes off him from the moment they met. Neither had Serena, though his stepsister never knew that he knew. All the girls had eyes for Nathaniel Archibald.

But this… man before him was not Nate. Not _his_ Nate.

He gulped.

The man before him was a hard man, a war-weary man. Tall and so bronzed that he looked downright brown. His skin revealed many days of standing under the sun. He had his hair buzzed short, so short Chuck hardly could tell he had hair. His eyes were dark and hard, and there was a nasty scar that extended from the tip of his lip, across his cheekbone, past his eyelid and up his eyebrow, disappearing into his hairline.

The scar was healed, but he looked nearly disfigured. And now he was the walking, living proof that things were just not ok.

He stood tall and proud, a leader and a soldier. Cold, calculating, and lacking all the warmth and goodness that Chuck had always seen in him.

"Chuck Bass," Nate said.

"Nate…" Chuck was still shocked speechless. He had no words. He'd expected to find him scared, hopeless, alone, even dead. But not this. Not this transformed man before him. He walked to Chuck, and Chuck instantly noticed a limp.

From his understanding, Nate had only been at war about 11 months. No more. Yet the fool had been sent to the very worst part of it. Leave it to Nate to find the one place that could transform and change a man so drastically.

"That's Corporal Archibald to you," Nate snapped at him and walked resolutely to Chuck, looming over him.

Chuck felt like he had swallowed his tongue.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Nate snapped at him. "Don't tell me that you came to _save_ me?"

Chuck, still speechless and even more astounded by Nate's words, just stared at him.

"Let me assure you, you're six months too late," he spat grimly. Chuck's eyes widened slightly when Nate pulled a knife from his boot and brandished it before Chuck's eyes.

Had he lost his mind? Had he lost it completely, and now was going to gut him for sleeping with Blair all those years ago? Chuck simply stared at him.

"My coat pocket," Chuck said quietly.

Nathaniel eyed him, his eyes still as empty and hard as ever. Without preamble, he leaned forward and stuck his hand into Chuck's coat pocked, pulling out the very distinct blue pass.

Nate stared at the item and then slowly turned to Chuck, his eyes firing even more hatred.

"Leave it to a Bass to get one of these," he spat. "The whole world is on fire, and you're trotting the globe with one of these? You disgust me!"

And then Nate spit in his face, making Chuck's mouth drop open, stunned. His anger bubbled inside of him until he felt he could _kill_ him with his bare hands. The same fine hands that were still snuggly tied behind his back.

"You angry, Charles?" Nate taunted him. "Yeah – get angry. Get motherfucking pissed."

Chuck's jaw twitched. "_I_ disgust you. Me?" Chuck barked a laugh. "I can pull rank with you, you know. All the times you fucked Blair over. All the times –"

"Blair is dead to me, same way I'm dead to myself –"

"And what about Vanessa, eh?" Chuck snapped. "Married her, didn't you? Love her? Left her?"

And a horrible look passed through Nate's eyes at the mention of Vanessa's name, and Chuck knew he had him. He'd found _his_ kryptonite.

"Yeah… But you know the twist? You know the fucking twist? That while you're out here convincing yourself that you're dead, she had your child," Chuck yelled at him, trying to hold back the sick delight he got from watching Nate's armored façade crumble.

"She begged me to find you," Chuck spat.

"Shut up!" Nate cried, and then a gun was out and pointed at Chuck's face threateningly.

"Came all the way to Scotland to find me because you told her she should. I could see her bones, she was so fucking thin!" Chuck continued. Nate's eyes widened, and the gun was cocked.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you, and the great Chuck Bass dies here, by the hand of Nathaniel Archibald, as he sat on the floor of a fucking tent!" Nate was screaming so loud that his spit was sprinkling all over Chuck's face.

"You're going to kill me, Nate?" Chuck countered. "Your best friend?"

"You were a lousy friend! You fucked Blair. You took her virginity, you hid it from me, and you took her from me –"

"What are you talking about? She chose you!"

"Her mind did, but her heart was always elsewhere!" Nate continued. "You could feel it, feel it as she kissed me. As she fucked me!"

"_You_ chose Vanessa!" Chuck reminded him.

"I loved Vanessa!" Nate shouted, and Chuck saw the veins in his neck rise above his skin.

"Well, she's dead!" Chuck shouted right back. "Died giving birth to your fucking kid!"

And Nate was rendered speechless. The gun dropped from Chuck's face as Nate stared at him blankly.

Chuck instantly knew he'd crossed a line. He's crossed a HUGE line. He'd destroyed him. Destroyed him with his words.

Chuck opened his mouth to take it back, because the sorrow he saw crossing Nathaniel's face was the most horrible thing he had ever seen in all the years the war had ragged on.

He wondered if that was the look his father had when he was told his mother had died. Like the real man had died. Chuck knew it would be the look that would cross his own face if Blair ever died, a thought that stabbed his stomach with a butcher knife.

Nate stepped back, quickly raising his gun and placing it against his own temple.

All Chuck remembered was screaming, and then the world exploded around them.

----------

To be continued


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 22** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

-----------

"_If the people we love are stolen from us,  
__The way to have them live on, is to remember them.  
__Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever."  
__The Crow_

Melanie had woken around five in the morning and begun her routine of yelling her lungs out as if Blair hadn't just fed her a few hours before. So Blair quickly ran to her room and picked her baby up, holding her against her chest and rocking her back and forth. The maids knew to leave a warm bottle by the crib, so she picked it up and held it to Melanie's waiting lips. The baby quickly clung to the bottle and suckled, her eyes closing in ecstasy. She made a loud happy sound and Blair stared down at her.

"You eat entirely too much," she told the baby, and the baby continued in ignorant bliss. She was healthy, though she hadn't started out that way. After the condition her mother was in when she was born, she was seriously lacking nutrients and had bad colds a couple of months ago. Now she ate and ate and she was a round, happy baby.

Her eyes had begun to change into the strangest color Blair had ever seen. It was an aqua blue. As if Nate's and Vanessa's colors had merged and formed a new one. It was the color found in a clear ocean. It was stunning. She also had a beautiful set of dimples that she showed off when truly happy. Her hair was a dark brown color with soft waves to it, and Blair thought about how stunning she would be when she grew up.

She was very dainty. A true girly girl. She possessed all of Anne's old grace – once or twice Blair had even seen her little pinky raise when chewing on one of her toys. She also looked stunning in pink, yellow, and green.

Once she was done and the bottle nearly empty, Blair changed her diaper as she squirmed and kicked her chubby baby legs. Blair smiled down at her and grabbed her foot, smelling it and smiling down at her baby girl. The baby laughed and peered up at Blair.

"You're going back to sleep," she told her, and the baby made senseless noises. Blair tied her pajama back up and slipped socks on her feet, then picked her up, beginning her burping routine.

Blair walked around, murmuring to her. When she made it back to her room, she stared at the letter, still unopened on her vanity. She paused and slowly walked to it. Melanie let out a loud burp, and Blair turned her, cleaning her face and sitting down before the vanity as she stared at the letter.

Her heart was murmuring to her. Telling her things. Telling her to listen to the words of her beloved because he would soon come to her and this was not a goodbye, but rather an 'I'll see you later'.

Melanie, her eyes now fixed on the letter before her as it stood starkly against the dark mahogany of the vanity, reached her little baby fingers towards it, her little mouth in a perfect O and her eyes wide. She babbled as her fingers touched it, still unable to pick things up. She patted it, palm flat, jumping on Blair's lap. She smacked her small hands on it until the letter bounced down to the floor, and there Blair continued staring at it.

She swallowed and finally leaned down, one hand holding the baby, the other hand reaching for the envelope.

She brought it before Melanie, who looked extremely happy at being offered the envelope, and she reached for it, but Blair kept it away. This infuriated the child and she scrunched her face up, miffing and pouting.

Blair slowly slid her index finger under the flap of the envelope and pried it open, Melanie watched this carefully, entranced at the possibility that the paper could convert into something else.

Her heart beat slowly but surely as she removed the paper inside of the envelope. She handed Melanie the plain envelope, and the baby happily grabbed it as best she could.

Blair unfolded her letter and tears came unbidden to her eyes once she recognized his handwriting. He _had_ written this himself. She reminded herself that he needed her to be brave, to be strong and ignoring his letter was not the way to go. So she slowly found the first line.

"Dear Blair…" she whispered into the room and Melanie stopped what she was doing and leaned her head on Blair chest, rubbing her nose against Blair's robe. She was getting sleepy once more.

Blair placed her hand on the back of the baby's head and continued reading.

"I don't know if you'll even read this letter, or when we will even speak again, but I wanted to tell you I am fine and alive. I miss you everyday, and I want this to be all over so that I can find my way back to you. If you keep a candle lit for me, baby, I'll always find my way back to you. Love always, your husband, Charles Bass."

She was crying by the time she finished it and had unconsciously rocked the baby to sleep.

She looked around the room and quickly spotted a thick candle. She stood resolutely and placed the baby back in her cradle, making sure her warm blankie covered her completely and a new log was in the fireplace to keep the room warm. She walked back to the candle and, having lit it up with a stick from her own fireplace, she walked to window that faced the sea.

"By sun and candle-light," she whispered.

-------

The explosion had knocked the wind out of him and he was pretty sure the world had ended and he had been destroyed in it. He swallowed and slowly lifted his head. No. The world was still here. If he was dead and this was heaven or hell, he couldn't possibly be feeling the headache he had.

And the sound of shouting and gunshots outside reminded him of the reality around him.

The sturdy tent that they had placed him in was in shambles, things were burnt to a crisp, all the supplies once stored there were in disarray and the memories that he'd held a moment before came crashing back.

His eyes widened, and he tried to remember. Gunshot? Had he heard a gunshot?

Think, think.

No. Never a gunshot. Just an explosion from hell's pure fury.

"Nate?" He croaked into the dark room. His hands were still tied behind him, but he had fallen sideways. The wood pole that held him prisoner had snapped in half and his hair was covered with wood bits. He looked up and, using his legs to push himself off the floor, he aimed at the end of the pole to slide himself off and then find a way to cut his bindings. He grunted, panting and sweating in the semi-darkness as the war raged on around them.

Another explosion shook the air around them and he buried his face in the dirt, in case anything decided to fall on him. The explosion ended and there were more gunshots and screaming from the soldiers outside. He shook his face, bits of dirt falling off, and spit out the grains in his mouth. The he continued pushing and panting his way off of the wood pool.

That was when he heard it. A low, distinct groan. He stopped, though he was almost at the end.

"Nathaniel?" He echoed into the darkness. The groan came louder this time, and he cursed. "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

Chuck cried out, his fingers peeling and getting cut with the end of the open wood pole. He grimaced and finally pulled his body free from the pole. He wasn't sure what else was wrong with him; if he had dislocated something, or if something was broken. Because all he could think about in that moment was the groan in the darkness.

He tried to kneel first, his hands still bound behind him, and then slowly stood, shaking himself free from the dirt and grime.

"Nathaniel?" He panted and tried to walk around the darkness, tripping over a few fallen things.

More groans and slight cursing.

Then he saw legs. He let out a breath of relief and walked to them, but the rest of the body was buried under debris, a fallen tool case, and another fallen wood beam.

"Nathaniel!" He walked over the wood beam and saw Nate's face. His eyes were closed and his scar was even more prominent. His face look unhurt, but the distinct grimace on his lips told Chuck something else was wrong. He carefully kneeled before him.

"Nate – Nate wake up!" He said to him. Slowly Nate opened his clear blue eyes and stared at Chuck.

"Chuck?" He whispered. "I didn't really want to die… I never wanted to die."

Chuck let out a yell and cursed. "Where's your knife?" He demanded.

"I-in my boot," he whispered back, swallowing. "I-I c-can't breathe…"

"Hold on, I'm going to get this off you, just hold on," Chuck assured him and stood, loosing his balance once or twice and walking to Nate's leg. He saw the glimmering object. Turning around, he sat his ass by Nate's leg and, reaching with his tied hands, he grasped the base of the knife. After a few grunts and yells of frustration, he removed the knife from its place. As best as he could, he slowly sliced the robe, cutting himself once or twice. Nate's labored breathing kept him focused. He was finally free, so he scrambled up, his eyes wide as he took in the wood beam.

"I'm going to lift it, ok?" He reassured Nate.

"Slowly –" Nate grimaced, letting out a low hiss.

Chuck nodded and, straddling the large beam, he placed his hands on it and slowly, grunting while Nate yelled, he finally managed to lift it off and roll it to the side. He turned his head to look down at his friend and stopped in his tracks.

His knees gave out from under him as he stared at Nate.

The tool chest that had fallen on him had opened and a few tools were protruding from Nate's stomach. He was bleeding at an astronomical rate. Chuck took a breath because he could see tissue. He held back a gag and looked at Nate's face, which was smiling slightly.

"Not too pretty, eh?" Nate asked, his eyes still closed and his body immobile.

"W-we have to get you to a doctor," Chuck said, at a complete loss as to what to do.

"There is no one," Nate informed him. "I had to saw the leg off one of my men last week."

Chuck thought of the possibility of not being able to save his friend. All those miles, all those milestones, nights and hours spent looking for Nate, and now he might not be able to bring him back.

No. He was going to save him. He was. He'd been unable to save so many things, but _this_ he was going to save. He was going to save him for his mother's sake, for his father's, for Lily's, for Vanessa – there was too much at stake.

"I-I'm going to get you out of here – you're going to be fine," Chuck nodded.

Nate slowly lifted his head and looked down at his chest and stomach. He let out a laugh, which made more blood boil out of him.

"Quite an optimist you've become, Bass," he slurred.

Chuck quickly shed his coat and pressed it around the wounds. "I need to take them out."

There was four tools in his stomach and one right under his ribs. But Nate shook his head.

"Don't waste your time on me – get the fuck out of here –"

"I'm not leaving you –"

"You can't save me –"

"I damn well can. I'm taking you home, and you're going to see your daughter grow up even if it kills me!" Chuck shouted and, without warning, pulled two of the metal tools out, making Nate arch off the floor and scream. He shouted obscenities, but Chuck was not deterred as he grabbed the last two in his stomach and yanked them out. Like a band aid.

"N-no more, no more, please!" Nate was crying now.

Chuck's hands were full of blood – so much blood, he didn't know what to do with it. He wiped the sweat off his brow, leaving a trailing line of Nate's blood over his forehead as he panted and looked down.

"It's a girl?" Nate whispered, and Chuck slowly met his eyes.

"Yes…" Chuck nodded, then yanked out the remaining piece, and Nate lost consciousness. Chuck looked down at him and scavenged the tent until he found an old first aid kid. He took all the gauze out of it and, with trembling hands, he wrapped all of Nate's torso, ignoring how the blood seeped right through the cloth. But at least he was wrapped. Then slowly lifted him up and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

While grunting and grimacing Chuck walked out of the tent with his oldest friend over his shoulder. The tent was a quarter of what it had once been. Many men lay dead on the floor, more wounded, and the ones left were too busy firing at an unseen target.

He saw Olan, who looked like he was leading the troops (a thought that scared Chuck more than anything), shouting orders while his hefty arms supported a bazooka.

"Stand clear!" He yelled and fired. Chuck limped to him and, once the man noticed it was him, he looked up, startled.

"He needs a doctor – are you going to give me a hard time and let him die here, or are you going to shut your mouth and help me?" He demanded, and the man's eyes slowly filled with admiration.

"You willing to die for him?" He asked Chuck, and Chuck slowly nodded, no hesitation to his decision.

Olan slowly smiled. "He wouldn't want you to, but I would. So you've got yourself a fucking deal, soldier."

Chuck swallowed and nodded. Olan called for the few remaining soldiers to pull back, and then the small group followed his orders and began to retreat to the place were Chuck had first been discovered. Nate's weight on him was killing him, but he continued. He noticed that blood was now running down his arms because Nate hadn't stopped bleeding.

"He ain't going to make it," Olan told him when Chuck set Nate down at the edge of the old camp. Chuck's jaw twitched.

"If he doesn't make it, then neither are you," Chuck ground out and met his eyes coldly. Olan found it admirable and smirked at him, nodding.

"We move out!"

The rest of the men followed his instructions, and Chuck once more picked up the unconscious Nate, with the help of another soldier, until he was resting once more on his shoulder. They traveled like this for a few hours: stopping, consulting, and continuing. The harsh sun beat on them for a while until it began to set. They made a small camp for the night, and one of the soldiers inspected Nate's wound as Chuck greedily ate from a cold and disgusting soup they had provided, his eyes locked on Nate's form.

"A couple of broken ribs, I'd say… Maybe a broken collarbone… And definitely internal bleeding…" he let out a grim breath and shook his head. "He might as well been run over by a train."

Chuck swallowed and nodded, accepting the man's help as they changed Nate's bandages… But the bleeding hadn't stopped. The blood was coming darker and darker. The night settled around them and Chuck sunk down exhausted next to Nate, sleep immediately taking over his senses.

---------

In his dreams, he saw many things, but the one thing that struck him and stayed with him was a promise he and Nate had made each other once. They were no more than eight when they decided to be blood brothers. Anne had found them in Nate's room about to cut each other with a steak knife and had shrieked at the top of her lungs. The Captain had explained to them that they didn't need to cut themselves to be blood brothers.

So the next day, using a safety pin, they poked each other's fingers and, with the little trickle of blood that came out, they pressed together and swore to be brothers from that moment forth. Chuck had forgotten about that, and it was strange that his dream had remembered for him.

When he woke, some of the soldiers were stirring and he looked over to find Nate awake and staring ahead. He was completely still, but Chuck saw his chest rising and falling.

"Nathaniel?" He sat up and looked down at him. Nate met his eyes and blinked.

"I can't feel my legs…" Nate said softly, and Chuck swallowed, a thick syrupy feeling forming in his throat. Something he'd never been able to identify.

"Y-you're going to be ok, Nate – I promise –" he attempted, and Nate slowly shook his head.

"My daughter… What's her name?" Nate asked, blinking and studying Chuck.

Chuck looked down and then back at Nate. "Melanie."

Nate smiled faintly. "Is she beautiful?"

The horrible lump in Chuck's throat tightened and he nodded.

"Who's taking care of her?" Nate asked, his eyes slightly closed, as if sleep were taking over him.

"Blair is…" Chuck said carefully. Nate's eyes widened slightly and he studied Chuck, then looked at Chuck's hand, where he distinctly saw a wedding ring. He smiled.

"You married her?" He asked carefully, and Chuck nodded, his eyes still on Nate. "… Good… You always did love her."

Chuck swallowed and looked away, running his hand over his long hair.

"I need to ask you a favor…" Nate whispered.

"Anything," Chuck nodded.

"I need you to take care of her… Raise her like she was your own…"

"Shut up – stop saying this babbling bullshit," Chuck demanded and, in the background, the explosions began once more. The soldiers around them began to scurry.

"We've been spotted!"

"On the move, soldiers!"

Chuck's wide eyes studied the scenery and, sure enough, in the distance were men on horses and in tanks. He looked down at Nathaniel, who looked paler than ever, and forced him to sit up, ignoring his gasps and yells. He threw him over his shoulder and began to follow the soldiers as Nate cried out over and over.

The grunts and wails that Nate made were permanently imbedded in his eardrum, but Chuck continued ahead, even though his legs were killing him. His arms were tired and shaky, but Nate's life depended on him, and he was not giving up.

"You're holding us back!" One of the soldiers shouted at Chuck, but Chuck sent him a glare and continued with Nate over his back. They finally reached a rocky area and had to begin climbing, Nate was jostled from side to side as Chuck attempted to carry him over rock and stone.

"Stop!" Nate cried, his hands digging into Chuck's back. "Stop! No more! God, please no more!"

Chuck finally relented and placed him up against a rock, breathing in and out, exhausted himself. His body begging him for a break. They breathed in and out, staring at one another.

"No more…" Nate whispered. "No more, please… I can't…" He began coughing, and Chuck saw blood in his mouth. He closed his eyes and cursed.

"We're almost there –"

"No one can save me Chuck, not even you." Nate closed his eyes and spat out blood.

"I can – yes, I can –"

"Cut the bandages – please cut them. It's too much, too much pain, I can't breathe –"

"No, you'll bleed out," Chuck shook his head and ignored the soldiers that cried out to him as the men approached them. Olan climbed down the rock and glared at Chuck.

"Go on!" Nate spat to him. "That's an order – you go on, you hear me?"

Olan stared at his superior and then back at Chuck.

"No, you look at me – I can still think. I'm not dead, but you will not die saving me, you hear? You go on, you live and get him out of here." Nate raised a nearly limp hand and mentioned to Chuck.

"Yes, sir," Olan nodded, his jaw tense.

"No – the fuck you are!" Chuck protested. "I'm not leaving you behind. You don't leave a man behind!"

"Take him!" Nate ordered. "Leave me a gun."

Olan quickly unstrapped his revolver and made to hand it over, but Chuck intervened.

"Stop it!" Chuck demanded. "I stay. I have the blue card, they can't harm me."

Olan stared at Chuck and then looked at Nate and, without warning, turned and climbed back up the mountain.

"No!" Nate shouted but then stopped, wheezing as he coughed once more. "Cut them!"

Chuck shook his head.

"Cut them! I'm begging you – I can't breathe…" Nate pleaded.

Chuck, swallowing the lump in his throat, nodded and reached out to cut the heavy binds they had been placed over Nate's torso. Nate let out a yell of relief, but Chuck blanched when blood spilled forth and distinct body parts that should be inside were not.

"Oh fuck…" he cried out, and Nate looked oblivious, happy and sated with his guts hanging out.

"Nathaniel, c'mon – stay with me. Stay awake." Chuck tapped Nate's face, and he groaned.

"Chuck, please go – just go… I've got minutes left…" Nate panted, and Chuck shook his head.

"I can't," he ground out. "We made a promise to each other a long time ago… And I don't intend to leave you behind."

Nate's eyes twinkled slightly and he coughed, more blood coming to his mouth.

"Blood brothers…" Nate nodded. "Chuck, I don't hate you… I never really hated you…"

The horrible lump was threatening to take over his soul, but Chuck tried his very best to keep it at bay.

"… I just wish… we could've talked before this… and then maybe…" his head bobbled slightly. "… Last night I dreamt about Vanessa… She said she was waiting for me…"

"She'll have to keep waiting –"

"I've done things and seen things I will never recover from… Things that go much deeper than what the skin can show… You know?" Nate swallowed. "A long time ago I realized I was never going to return to her because the man she loved was gone… I told god that I would stay and fight if he would keep her safe… and now he's forfeited his deal so I'll forfeit mine." He licked his lips and Chuck saw his eyes change, like he was becoming deeper than Nate ever had.

"I found that the very hardest thing to do in this life… is to forgive yourself."

The lump he'd held at bay erupted from him as Nate, unknowingly, repeated Blair's words to him from long ago.

"Promise me you wont blame yourself… Promise me…"

"Nathaniel…" Chuck's voice broke, and he leaned forward, taking Nate's shoulders in his hands.

"Chuck…" Nate's breath was ragged and coming short and fast. "… Don't ever let my girl know the man I became… Please, please…"

"Nate…" Chuck's eyes became wet just as Nate let out one last breath.

"Nate…" Chuck gulped. "No…. no, no, no…." Chuck pulled Nate's body up and hugged it. "No!!!"

He screamed out and picked him up from the ground, holding him close.

"No!" Chuck cried. "Goddamit!"

Nate's body was limp in his arms, and he cursed. He pulled Nate's head back and yelled. His eyes were wide and blue and vacant.

In his mind, all the moments they had shared as children and as teenagers unhappy with life flitted through his eyes, and he saw that they could've shared much more. Much more, but now it was gone. Nate was gone. His blood brother, his best friend, the one person who had always accepted him. He felt his soul break, and he couldn't and wouldn't stop it.

So he cried over Nate's body, cried for all the times he held himself back, for those months he had never cried for his father, for his mother, for his life… He just cried.

When his body was shaking and exhausted, he wiped his tears and looked ahead. The men were now climbing up the mountain. The men were coming to get them. To get him.

"Mother fucke –"

He pressed his lips to Nate's forehead and closed his eyes. He picked up the body in his arms and resolutely turned to the armed men heading up the rock mountain. Let them mess with him today, just let them try. He wished they would try.

-------

To be continued


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 23** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

A/N – A special thanks to the ever lovely Tatiana for her BETA.

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_" Don't say we aren't right for each other, the way I see it is… We aren't right for anyone else."  
__The Cutting Edge_

Blair didn't understand why that night sleep insisted on evading her. She tossed and turned and finally sat up, wrapping herself in her robe and staring out at the rising sun.

She'd had a horrible dream. Just horrible. So horrible that it took over all she knew and the same thought came to her over and over.

In the pit of her soul, she knew the truth – like she knew she was avoiding it for the sake of her sanity. But the truth was as monumental as anything.

Nate was not coming back. Nathaniel Archibald was dead.

She had dreams of him as a little boy with tussled blond hair and a shining smile. And the moment she saw him, she knew he was gone.

She couldn't prevent the tears from coming to her eyes. She had loved him once. In all of her childhood innocence, she had loved him, cared for him, been devoted to him. Not in the way she loved Chuck; it was a different love. A love of things that were simple and idealistic. It was the love of a little girl with shining brown eyes and a hopeful smile as she looked at him, thinking him the greatest thing ever. And now he was gone. She wondered if Chuck had gotten to say his goodbyes. She wondered many things before the ache in her chest became unbearable.

She cried, because he would never see his beautiful daughter grow up and call him Daddy and bring boys home and parade in dresses. He just would never see it, and it broke Blair's heart. It really did. Her heart also broke for Chuck. If he didn't forgive himself now, she didn't think he ever would. And if he never forgave himself, he would never be able to make it back to her.

So she dressed in her thick riding gear, because the wind was still violently cold, and she beckoned Dorota to watch Melanie while she rode out. She needed to breathe fresh air, needed to get away from the confines of the ornate house and just find a lonely place to forget.

The sun was barely peaking when Hera galloped out into the fields with her on top, and both females expanded their lungs to enjoy the freedom of the ride. She went straight to the place she loved, the placed he had first brought her to. A place to over look the sea.

Because beyond the sea was where he was at. Healing, recuperating, getting ready to make it back to her. And she would know. She would know by the way his eyes would change back to their warm caramel color that he was ready for her once more. Until then… He was broken.

---------

The men stopped at a standstill as the white man, holding another white man in his arms stood before them, jaw squared and eyes resolute.

"I'm Chuck Bass!" He cried to them. "Holder of the blue card, I am hereby given protection under universal law, treaty of 2013 which states –"

"I know what it states, white man," the leader responded, standing on a tank with a thick turban on his head and a half-burnt cigarette in his hand, his dark eyes covered with sunglasses.

Chuck swallowed, his eyes still dark.

The man studied Nate's body, and then looked back at Chuck and how Chuck was not letting go of him.

"He's dead," he stated, pointing to the body, but Chuck held Nate even closer.

"He's my brother, and I intend on honoring him," Chuck responded, and the man took off his sunglasses.

"You're not a soldier," he commented, almost interested.

"Few of us are," Chuck replied.

"Let me see this blue card," the leader asked skeptically. "Because if you don't have it, I can shoot you where you stand."

Chuck's decision had to be swift. Drop Nate's body on the floor and reach for his card, or tell them he would show them when he could. The leader saw his momentary hesitation and shouted orders in a foreign language and quickly, another one of his soldiers brought forward a large white blanket. The two men placed it on the floor before Chuck. Chuck stared down at the blanket, and then back at the leader.

The leader said nothing, simply nodded. Chuck gulped and slowly, with care, placed Nate's body on the blanket, the still seeping blood quickly stained the stark paleness of the sheet. Chuck was covered in blood. With trembling, wet fingers, he reached into his pants and slowly pulled out his life-saving pass.

He held it high above his head as the men stared on, almost in awe.

The leader studied him for a moment, then slowly looked down at Nate's body and nodded, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Why is it so very important that you go home, white man?" He asked Chuck.

Chuck studied him right back, his heart beating erratically, but calmness still filling him. Near numbness.

"My family…" Chuck answered. "I need to get home to my family."

The man smiled slightly and nodded. "I will take you to your people," he finally acquiesced.

Chuck let out the breath he was holding and slowly nodded. He bent down to pick up Nate once more, and the man shouted at him.

He jumped off his tank and walked resolutely to Chuck. Chuck stood back, honestly unsure of how to respond. So he waited, his eyes never leaving the man's face.

The leader shouted more things to his men, and a few more blankets were brought out. The men began to wrap Nate's body tightly as Chuck stared, open-mouthed.

"Were I come from, when a man loses his brother in war, he must carry his body until he finds his destination in order to find happiness later on in life," the man explained to Chuck. And in less than a minute, Nate was officially mummified. The men looked at Chuck, and Chuck nodded, grunting as he picked up Nate's rolled up form.

The leader nodded and motioned for Chuck to walk.

He was pretty sure he would pass out before he reached any sort of destination, and the happiness later in life would be for naught because he would be mummified also. But at long last and under the desert sun, they came upon a clearing and, sure enough, there was a camp. He stopped, his legs shaking, his feet sinking into the desert sand, and his back begging for relief. He stood for the longest time, anticipating the trek home. The trek that would take him back to Blair, still feeling destroyed. For her sake, he needed to be whole.

He paused, and with his eyes squinting in the hot sun, he nodded.

"Chuck Bass… You're forgiven," he whispered to himself. "Now go home to your wife."

The leader was standing next to him and nodded, pointing the way. "We cannot go further. Hopefully they can help you."

"Hopefully one day this mess will be over, and you can go where you please. We'll all be card holders," Chuck said.

"Wise words for one so very young," the leader nodded. "May Allah give you sons, desert white man."

Chuck opened his mouth to protest, but the man swiftly turned and joined his troops. Chuck turned back to the camp, his soul elated at the thought of finally getting some rest and relief.

----------

He couldn't believe they'd floated so far away from everything, here in the middle of this wasteland where nothing was to be found. It was time they threw in the towel, admitted defeat, and headed home.

Home. New York was so very far away.

Xavier closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. It'd been months since he'd actually written a good story. A really good story. He missed the thrill of writing, of chasing leads and meeting deadlines. He missed it as much as he missed home, because that _was_ home.

He heard commotion outside of his tent and his stomach froze. Not another meeting with the foreign troops, he hoped – last time a man had ended up injured! He scrambled up and grabbed his hat; his lips were already chapped by the desert sun as it was. He stumbled outside and saw a few of the other reporters moving towards the front of the camp. He followed them and, there in the distance, sure enough, was a man.

"The troops stopped at the treaty's edge and brought him along – he looks white!" One of the men said to another.

Xavier squinted against the light, and it looked like he was carrying a bag over his shoulder – a long bag.

"He's carrying something –"

"A bomb!" Another panicked.

"It's not a bomb, Julius – for fuck's sake!"

"It's something, alright," Xavier said.

"He looks like he's going to pass out –"

"We should help –"

"Remember what happened to Otto last time someone stepped out of camp alone?"

"Let him get closer."

Xavier squinted and walked closer to the edge of camp, his eyes following the man. The man came closer, closer, and then his eyes met Xavier's. Xavier froze.

"Holy Mary, mother of God…" Xavier whispered.

The man, at seeing the recognition in Xavier's eyes widened his own and then collapsed into the desert's sandy floor.

Xavier, without thought for himself, jumped up and ran to the man while some of the others cried out for him to stop and the remainder followed him.

Xavier reached the fallen man and nearly jumped back when he saw that the bag was actually a body bag. Stained and cracked with dried blood.

"Do you know him?"

Xavier reached out and took the living man's shoulder and let out a breath.

"He's Chuck Bass," he announced, and the men around him gasped.

"Holy shit!"

"He has a body with him!"

"He's nearly dehydrated!"

"Get him inside, pick him up – grab his legs –"

Chuck moaned, opening his eyes slightly and taking in the man before him.

"Fifty dollar man…" he whispered to Xavier, and then he fainted.

--------

She didn't realize that she'd been out most of the day, talking to the remaining villagers and helping a few with their harvest. Hearing the phrase Lady Bass never got old, but it tugged at her heart because Lord Bass was still very much missing and very much somewhere out there.

Next to her, Hera whined and stomped her foot impatiently. She knew that back in the horse stall awaited soft oats and a warm bed.

"Soon, girl –" Blair assured her and patted her neck.

The air was not as cool as it had been recently, so the villagers were out and about enjoying the good day around them. She sighed, looking around, when something caught her eye.

It was Jonas. riding his horse as fast as the animal would go, like the devil himself was behind him. Her stomach froze, and that was when she knew something was very wrong.

"Mrs. Bass!" He shouted, and she ran to meet him halfway.

"What is it?" She demanded, looking up at him.

"Invaders, up the north end – too many to count!" He cried, and her body went rigid as she looked behind.

"On horseback?" She asked.

"Yes!"

She looked back at the group of villagers that had gathered behind her, and then turned back to Jonas.

"Get everyone in the house!" She cried and smacked Jonas' horse.

He leapt forward and started shouting orders as the villagers went into action, some crying, some screaming. Blair's heart was in her mouth as she jumped up on Hera, who sensed some real adventure and eagerly followed Blair's hectic lead.

"Sarah – get Tobias!" She was shouting orders left and right. "No, Lisa – leave those! In the house, everyone, c'mon! To the basement!"

She rode back to the home, passing some villagers, and found Kevin running out of the house, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

"Blair –"

"Invaders, get everyone inside, down in the basement!" She cried, and Jacob came running out of the house with Dorota, who held a happy Melanie in her arms. "Get her inside, get everyone in the basement!"

Jacob's eyes were wide as he nodded, ushering the people inside, trying to remain calm. Blair met Jonas' eyes and the man quickly threw her a rifle, which she caught as best as her lessons had taught her. Kevin, for his part, was looking at her a bit strangely.

"Put that down, Blair – you'll hurt yourself!" He cried.

Blair easily cocked the rifle and threw her hair back, a fierce expression on her face.

"It's not me I'd be worried about," she snapped, and his eyes widened slightly. "Move!" She cried to him. He shook himself, and she swore that for a moment she saw ardent disappointment in his eyes that she was not a delicate flower.

"Blair!" Out of the house came Polly, pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes wide and worried. Blair had let her stay with them under strict instructions, and she spent most of the day doing nothing more than designing outfits.

"Ruby! Ruby's gone!" She cried.

"What do you mean?" Blair demanded.

"S-she left an hour ago to pick her wild flowers by the small hill!" Polly was pure hysterics, tears were streaking down her face and she was shaking.

"Kevin, take her!" She demanded of the man, and he quickly took Polly by the shoulders and held her back.

"Where are you going?" He asked worriedly.

"I'll get Ruby –" Blair replied.

"It's too dangerous –"

"Don't worry, _dear._ I'm loaded!" She snapped and kicked Hera. The animal lurched forward and followed Blair's command as she went behind the ruins and over Ruby's favorite hilled area that blossomed with rare but beautiful wild flowers.

"Ruby!" She cried and, from behind a hill, the small head popped up and Blair sighed in relief. She galloped the horse towards her. "C'mon – we have intruders!"

Ruby instantly dropped her flowers and she reached out so that Blair could lift her up, sliding the girl behind her just like Chuck had taught her. She turned the animal and swiftly headed to the house. When they came behind the ruin, she paused because the intruders were already ransacking the village, pilfering all the goods they could find. Blair cursed and turned Hera, intent on going towards Jonas' cabin, where they could hide in her safe spot.

"Lady Blair!" Ruby whimpered behind her and, as she turned, she saw two men galloping behind her with malicious smiles on their faces. Her heart beat fast, and she urged Hera forward. If she could at least enter the cabin before them, she could wait for them inside and shoot them, like Jonas had taught her. But then again, she'd be farther from the house. It didn't matter, she had to save Ruby, and she had to save herself.

She focused and, when the cabin was in sight, she turned the horse and dumped Ruby on the ground. "Into the cabin!" She cried. Ruby nodded, tears marring her little face as she ran inside. Blair jumped off Hera, took her gun and her bullets, and slapped the horse.

"Get home!" She told the animal, and Hera pitched forward, kicking dirt behind her. Blair stared at the two men and, once she made sure they knew where she was going, she slipped inside of the house. Ruby was huddling behind Jonas' small stove.

"Into the bedroom closet – now!" She ordered, and Ruby scampered up.

Blair ran to the large oak gun rack and slid her small body behind it. She placed her elbow on the wood to steady her shot and leaned in, aiming at the door. Her face was hidden among crap Jonas had left all over, but she had a clear view. A clear shot. Her heart was pounding. Never did she think she would ever be doing this, never. But here she was in the wilderness, and it was time to show the world exactly what Blair Waldorf-Bass was capable of. She wasn't a simpering little flower; she was a tough girl who could do this. She took a breath. She didn't need to kill them. She just needed to make sure they wouldn't kill her or Ruby.

She waited quietly and patiently, with trembling fingers and an even more shaken soul. She could do this. She could.

And then the door was kicked opened. She jumped slightly, then willed herself to be calm, to wait for the perfect moment. She had two bullets. Two. She had more in her pocket, but reloading could mean her death. She had to be good – the best she'd ever been.

There in the door stood the silhouette, and she clicked the gun back as silently as she could. She aimed for the man's legs. A thigh to make him go down.

"You in here?" He asked, large and brawny. A thick German accent. Germans close by? She took a breath, closing one eye for accuracy like Jonas had taught her.

Aimed. Shot.

The shot raked through her body, making her lurch back. She quickly regained composure and aimed once more. There was another man behind him, who moved with lightening speed as the first one fell to the ground screaming. There was blood all over his waist. Shit. She'd shot his waist.

Aim better.

She cocked the gun once more, and her eyes strained to catch a glimpse of the other man.

"You won't have such an easy time with me!" The man cried, hiding behind the door.

Blair swallowed, but kept her aim straight. That was when the man started running around the cabin, and Blair's heart leapt. She turned quickly and her eyes widened when she heard another door bang open and closed.

She stepped back and took in the space.

Back door.

Fuck.

She kept the gun before her, never taking her finger off the trigger, her heart hammering in her chest, her boots silent on the worn floor boards. The room was semi-dark and was messy like Jonas himself. She gulped and gasped when a hand from behind grabbed her arm and another her throat.

She let out a strangled garble and began to struggle in earnest. The man pulled her gun off and it skittered across the floor, landing by the kitchen. She gasped, needing breath and, with all of her might, elbowed him and scrambled away from him when he lost his hold on her momentarily.

She ran towards the door, past the dying man on the floor, but his hand reached out and caught her ankle. She yelped, eyes wide as the other man, now recovered from her stun attack, grabbed her. She attempted to punch him, attempted to hit him, but he was larger and stronger and easily got the upper hand, dragging her to the couch in the living area. Her thoughts running a mile a minute as he threw her down on her ass and loomed over her.

"Oh, pretty…" he whispered, nearly salivating.

"No!" She cried, kicking at him and screaming. "No!"

And that was when Ruby popped her head out. "No! Lady Blair!"

Her little fists tried to punch the man that was holding her down.

"No, Ruby! Hide, Ruby!" She cried.

"Get off her, you horrible man!" Ruby cried, and the man, annoyed, pushed the little girl back, making her stumble and land against the wall. Blair turned her face, her body held down by the man as his horrible hands were on her.

"Ruby, get in the closet! Close your eyes, cover your ear, and I want you to sing, sing out loud until I get you – ok?"

Ruby's eyes were wide and fearful, but she nodded, doing as she was told. Blair' hard eyes turned to the man.

"You don't harm her," she spat.

"Too green for my likes," he responded, and then proceeded to lick her nose, making her gag. "You, on the other hand, are just right…"

And his hands were on her pants, yanking as she struggled and scratched him. Annoyed, he pulled his hand back to smack her. She braced herself for the pain, but then a loud shot was heard.

She screamed.

He stopped, looked down at his chest, and then slumped on top of Blair.

Blair screamed more and pushed him off her, still shaking, staring at the man on the floor. She quickly turned to look at her savior, and her eyes widened. Her breath left her body.

"C-clara?" She stuttered.

The young girl, dressed in a thick brown coat and hat, was holding a shotgun before her, her eyes dark and hard.

"You should know that I had Chuck drafted… Even after he saved me..." She dropped the gun next to her, but continued staring at her eyes. She nodded to the man on the floor. "Now we're even."

"I –" Blair's eyes were wet and teary.

"Take care of him," she nodded and, just as quickly as she came, she left, her shadow disappearing from Blair's life.

Blair let out a cry of relief and slumped to the couch, rocking slightly back and forth. She'd almost been raped. Clara had saved her. She'd had Chuck drafted.

Blair closed her eyes tightly and pressed her cold, shaky hands to her face.

A low moan shook her out of her thoughts. The man she had shot was still writhing on the floor. She gasped, stood up, and ran to the bedroom. She yanked the closet open and took a crying Ruby in her arms, calming her down. Calming herself down.

------------

He oddly wondered why the world was so very hot.

So very hot.

What happened to his air conditioner? He didn't understand.

He blinked and swallowed.

Where _was_ he? Had he passed out in Taiwan again? Where was Jacob? Why wasn't he on a pillow-top mattress?

So many things made no sense.

He groaned and stood up slowly. He looked around; he was in a tent. A crappy one at that. He gulped and looked down at himself. He was disgusting, full of cracked and dried blood, and smelled of it, too.

The tent was invaded by a tall ma,n who looked straight at him.

"Oh, good, you're awake – you've been sleeping for like ten hours, I was afraid you wouldn't wake up," he said.

Chuck took him in, slowly nodding as he recognized him. "Am I still in the desert?"

The man handed him a bottled water, which Chuck took gratefully.

"Yes, all of us are stuck here for God knows how long," he snapped.

He sat down before Chuck and scratched his beard. "I must admit, you're the very last person I expected to find here."

"Likewise," Chuck nodded, after gulping back half the bottle of water and finishing the rest.

"Your friend… He's decomposing…" Xavier said cautiously.

Chuck's jaw hardened, and he nodded. "I'm taking him to Scotland to lay him next to his wife."

The man nodded, still studying him.

"I heard of your engagement… I presume you're now married –"

"To the woman you conned?" Chuck finished for him, his gaze cool and collected.

Xavier gulped and nodded.

"Then, yes," Chuck tossed the empty bottle on the floor. He stood on shaky legs. "I need a land line. I need to get back home."

"We have land lines, but no ones gets out here. We have to walk nearly thirty miles to get to an alliance station –"

"For me they will," Chuck stated confidently.

"How do you figure?" Xavier demanded. "We're the press, we hardly get anything –"

"Well, like you said, Mr. Stockon. I'm Chuck Bass, and I'm going home."

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To be concluded :)

A/N - As you can see the next chapter will indeed be the last. Thank you!


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 24** of _In Love & War_

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

Author: Isabelle

Summary: Post 1.13. Chuck Bass left New York after he lost Blair and Nate in one day. Years later, a deep economic crisis has left the world broke, and the only family in the UES with money left is the Bass family and its sole heir: Chuck Bass. Eleanor convinces Blair to marry Chuck for his money, but all the feelings Blair left buried a long time ago start to surface when she realizes he's not the man she thought he was. CB. NV.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not Gossip Girl, not any quotes/lyrics used.

Rating: PG-15

**SPECIAL NOTE: I apologize for not being able to respond to feedback last chapter, this week has been crazier than ever at work and I didn't have the chance to reply back. I really truly appreciate all the feedback and if you're left with any questions by the conclusion of the series, feel free to send me a review or a message and I will answer any questions you may have. Thank you!**

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"_Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."  
__James A. Baldwin_

"I'm fine, I'm fine – don't fuss over me, really –" She swatted Dorota's hands away. Now there were five people nervously looking at her. Thank God her mother was cooing at Melanie and showing her different things in the room. She couldn't handle Eleanor also on top of her.

Before her stood Dorota, Kevin, Jacob, Jefferson, and even Polly, who was now holding Ruby against her chest, rocking her back and forth.

Ruby had not stopped crying since Blair had found her huddled in the back of Jonas' cottage. Blair had galloped all the way home to find the village half burned down and destroyed. She had made it back to the house and, with the help of Jonas, had taken the people out of the home and into the large house was serving as a makeshift shelter for the villagers.

Everyone was concerned because she did have bruises all over her pale skin from that man's attempted attack. But she was fine. All she could see was Clara's haunted eyes and her words hitting her over and over. She didn't know if she should be grateful the girl or hating her – she wasn't sure. She just wanted to sleep. She was so very tired.

"Don't crowd her –"Jacob told Dorota.

"I not crowd!" Dorota turned in a huff, and Jacob blanched, quickly going after her.

"Mom, give me the baby –" Blair said from her bed, and Eleanor walked softly to her and looked down at Blair.

"You need to comb your hair, darling," Eleanor raised a brow at her, and Blair rolled her eyes. The moment Melanie saw her; she stretched out her small arms and whimpered for Blair. Blair quickly took her, holding her baby to her chest and letting herself be soothed by the presence. She'd been so scared for a moment that Melanie would lose her, too; leaving her truly alone if Chuck never came back.

Chuck.

She didn't know how much longer she could take his absence. It was making her slowly shrivel up and die.

"I want some sleep – Jefferson and Jacob, make sure all the villagers are fed and the house is warm enough." They nodded. "Tomorrow we'll start preparations for new security measures – until then, let me sleep."

Polly nodded and left the room with Ruby and Jefferson.

"I'll stand watch –" Kevin offered.

"Oh please, no – not necessary," she told him, rocking her baby back and forth. "I'm fine, really I am."

"I take child," Dorota offered, and Blair shook her head.

"No, no, we'll be fine," she nodded.

Dorota looked beyond concerned and insisted on drawing up a bath of warm water before leaving. Blair looked at it gratefully. When everyone had finally left her room, she undressed herself and Melanie and they both sunk into the water.

Blair closed her eyes as Melanie happily played for a while with the water, splashing and throwing it up all over the place, but then she tired of it and rested her head on Blair's chest. Blair looked down at her and found her asleep against her breast, and she softly kissed her head.

"Daddy will be home soon…" She whispered, and that was when she allowed herself to cry. There in the tub, filled with water, with her baby resting on her chest. She didn't realize how much she had wished for Chuck to rush in and save her that day. She wanted it to be him with the gun; she had wanted him to come back to save her.

But it had not been him, but the twisted girl that had taken him away from her.

She didn't know what to think, what to feel, how to act – she just wanted Chuck back. _Her_ Chuck back and no one else. Once she was done crying, she got up, dried Melanie up as best she could, and lowered her into her crib. She dressed in her thick, warm pajamas and sunk into her sheets, after making sure the candle by the window of her room was lit.

The night was restless and cold; she heard the wind outside of her window, waking her and making her pace. She woke more times than Melanie did, and she still couldn't shake the horrible, restless feeling from her bones.

She kept telling herself that it was because she was still jumpy from the attack. That this was normal. When six o'clock finally struck, she added her thick coat over her pajamas and wandered downstairs to find some food. She realized she hadn't eaten. She had just settled Melanie to sleep, so she knew she had a couple of hours to herself. This pleased her. She needed them very badly.

Blair ignored speculative glances from the kitchen staff. The poor ladies were slaving away to prepared food for the entire village, so she slunk off and got some coffee and some fresh baked biscuits and fruits, then decided to go share her breakfast with Hera.

It was cold outside, but once she made it to the stables she felt warm and cozy. Hera perked up when she saw her, her tail flicking happily. Blair sat by her in the small bench and offered her a couple of apples, which the horse took happily.

Chuck's black Arabian huffed and walked to her also, and she nodded, also handing him an apple. She watched as Hera nudged the other horse with her nose. Blair smiled. She sipped her coffee as the horses stole her biscuits, and that was when a noise startled her.

She sat up and the horses instantly noticed her distress. She stood up.

"Mr. Grant?" She asked into the darkness. "I'm here – I'm just checking in on…"

She walked out, but no one was there.

She swallowed.

She had no weapon, and she never thought someone might still be in the village. Jonas commanding what was left of security had made her feel much better, but still…

She placed her coffee on the floor and looked around, spotting a large pinch fork propped up against the frame of Hera's door and hefting it up, her arms trembling against the weight. She brandished it before her threateningly.

Her breathing was ragged and her legs were shaking. How many attacks would she have to ward off before she would be safe? She had just begun to feel safe since the event the day before and here she was, once again, about to defend herself.

She carefully walked towards the spot where she heard the noise, still holding tight onto the sharp pitchfork, and then she heard it again! She twirled around and gasped.

The fork instantly dropped from her hand, and she stood there, completely numb.

There he was. Him. The one. The one she loved.

He was dressed all in black, lacking a few days' shave, but looking sexy as ever with dark eyes and a thick coat. He looked lighter, like he hadn't eaten well, like he'd hungered for something. And he was alone. No Nathaniel. None.

"There's something I need to tell you before we say anything else…." He said in low and dark voice. She gulped and nodded for him to begin. "It's not that you couldn't save me," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "It's that I had to save myself."

Her eyes swelled with tears, tears she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"It's not that I needed you to forgive me…" he continued. "It's that I needed to forgive myself."

She nodded, pressing her lips together, making them pale.

"And… It's not that I don't love you…" he whispered, walking slightly closer. "It's that I love you too damn much."

Her breath left her body. He was suddenly before her, wrapping her up, wrapping her in his arms, and she let out a strangled sob because she'd waited so long for him, so very long.

She hadn't realized she'd been waiting for him to truly come back to her since they were seventeen in that bar on that fateful night. She's _wanted_ him to come back to her, for her, for them. She had wanted it – in the very back of her mind, she had wanted it because only he awoke in her the passionate creature that had laid dormant for so many years.

"You came back!" She said harshly against his neck, holding him closer. Her feet lifted off the ground and he kissed her head. "You came back to me…" she whispered, threading her fingers into his soft hair.

He pushed her hair back, looking at her, setting her down on the floor once more, his heart bursting. He felt alive once more, like all the moments away from her he'd been in both a physical and emotional desert. Drowning, dying. She was his everything; she was his oasis – his sole reason for staying away from New York. The beginning and the end to all of his sorrows. All wrapped in one little package.

"I would've always come back to you…" he kissed her temple. "No matter what lifetime… I always, _always_ will find my way back to you…"

She took his face in her hands, and she kissed him, their lips meeting hungrily after months and months of severance and hibernation. Oh… She loved this man. She loved him, at his darkest, his brightest – she loved him. Because he was her perfect match. He was her counterpart. The words she said, he knew, the thoughts she had, he had them, too. The love she felt – he shared. This was it – this was what life had meant for her since the moment of her conception, and she felt found and complete. All her life, every step she had taken led to this moment. The moment of their reunion, the moment of their beginning. To truly start: no games, no complications, no shadows.

He was hers and she was his. They belonged to each other.

Before she knew it, the passion and pent up emotions inside of each pulled at them, demanding release. He picked her up and took her into an empty stall. Her small hands were all over him, tugging at his coat, demanding to touch his skin. The memories of the attack drifted completely out of her mind because he was saving her, in more ways than one. Their eager hands tugged at extra clothing and their lips bruised one another as they hungrily devoured and conquered what was already theirs.

His hands on her skin, her hands on his. He was cool, she was warm, and they melted together, soothing both the heat and the cold. And before she had time to think about what was happening, he swiftly entered her, wild and passionate and excruciatingly delicious, erotic and orgasmic. Her head fell back, a loud sigh escaping her lips as he happily nibbled at her neck.

"All I could think about was you, coming home to you," her lover confessed against her skin, sighing against her, loving her.

"I was so scared…" she slurred out, as he filled her over and over.

Their eyes were locked and there, by the light of a barnyard bulb, they reunited. She lost track of how fast it happened, but before she could truly comprehend what was happening, he laid her back against a pile of hay and stretched out beside her, covering their shivering bodies with his thick coat. She held onto him, their cold feet pressing against each other. Her head was tucked into his neck and her hands held onto his shoulder and hand.

He traced the curve of her body, from the top of her hips to the side of her breast, pausing to knead her skin until she hissed. He looked down at her, confused, and that was when he finally noticed her bruises.

His eyes darkened. "Did I do this?" He demanded.

She shook her heard, touching his neck. "No… Those are from yesterday…" she whispered. "The village was attacked and… So was I, but I was saved before anything could happen."

He tried to sit up, and she could instantly tell this bothered him.

"Who attacked you?" He snapped.

"Chuck – _nothing_ happened. Clara killed him… He's dead." She met his eyes, nodding in encouragement.

"Did he try…" The words felt thick in his mouth because the thought of a man forcing himself on her made him want to vomit, just seeing her crying and struggling. He couldn't shake off the image if he wanted to.

She took his face in her hands and made him look at her, her eyes meeting his.

"Remember what you said," she said softly, and he looked at her, perplexed. "You said… You said to fight like a lioness… And I did just that, and now I'm fine."

He gulped, and she kissed his temple. He slowly relaxed in her arms. They held each other, as Hera and the Arabian whined softly next to them. Both in love, like Ruby had once said.

"Nathaniel's dead…" he finally whispered. "I had some of my men meet me at the port, and they're bringing him back…"

"To lay by Vanessa?" She asked softly.

He stared at her and nodded.

"He asked something of me…" he gulped.

"Chuck… She's already yours…" Blair whispered.

His eyes glazed over ever so slightly, and she kissed his lips tenderly.

"C'mon…" she said, tugging at him. "Come meet your daughter."

And with that they redressed and conspicuously made their way back into the house, past the kitchen staff ardently working on getting enough food for the village, their hands clasped to one another as they finally made it back to their room. She motioned for him to be quiet and he silently let her lead him to the connecting room, his brows raising when he saw the doors were missing.

"What happened to my little hallway? I was rather fond of it," he whispered to her, and she smirked at him, shoving him slightly as he chuckled. And then there was an explosion of yellows and pinks. He blinked, almost not recognizing the old room where they had spent their first night as newlyweds.

In the middle of the room lay a mahogany crib with yellow and pink blankets, emanating a soft noise. He was intrigued. She guided him until both of them were peering at the sleeping baby.

Melanie was on her stomach, her little butt sticking up in the air slightly and her tiny hands delicately tucked under her head. She had long lashes, pink cheeks, and a tuff of brown hair with a slight bow on it. Yes, Chuck had seen her when born, but he'd been so very distraught and focused that he hadn't allowed himself to get attached to the child. Plus, she belonged to Nate… But now Nate was gone and had left his best friend in charge of his daughter.

There she was, his little princess, dressed in pink with a yellow blanked covering half of her body. She mewled softly in her sleep and, for some inexplicable reason; Chuck couldn't stop looking at her. After all the harshness he had seen, he'd traveled a thousand miles to find something as innocent and beautiful as this. It was strange. Like they both couldn't belong in the same world. Like she belonged somewhere else.

"Do you want to hold her?" Blair asked him quietly, and he quickly shook his head.

"Don't wake her," he whispered, but Blair bristled.

"If I don't wake her now, she won't nap until late and it'll mess up her clock…" Blair said. So she reached in and woke her gently, slowly picking her up.

"Grab her blanket," she instructed Chuck, and he quickly complied, not really knowing what to do.

Melanie blinked and whimpered softly, but relaxed when she spotted Blair.

"It's ok, baby…" Blair whispered to her and held her against her chest. The baby turned her head and spotted Chuck with wide blue-green eyes. "Drape it over her," Blair told him, and he nodded, softly placing the blanket around the baby as Blair rocked her slightly.

Melanie yawned widely and pushed herself off Blair, staring at Chuck. She babbled at him, and Blair smiled.

"She's saying hello."

Chuck was still speechless as the baby continued studying him. Then she scrunched up her little face and his eyes widened.

"Uhmmm…" he pointed at her features.

Blair nodded. "Sit down." She motioned to a rocking chair which Chuck stared at, confused as to where it had come from. "One of the villagers made it for me. He was very kind." She explained as he took a seat. She then leaned over him and handed him the baby despite his look of protest. Melanie then began to cry, and Chuck stared at the child in alarm. Blair quickly moved around the room, found the customary bottle, and brought it to Chuck.

"She's hungry," Blair motioned and handed it to him. She stood behind him and guided him with her hands. The moment Melanie saw the bottle; she whimpered and reached for it, her mouth latching on to it with the ferocity of a starved soldier.

Chuck gulped, and the baby relaxed in his arms and stared at him as he fed her.

"There…" Blair whispered, kissing his head and smiling over his shoulder. "Relax…"

His shoulders sagged slightly as the baby grasped onto her bottle, never taking her eyes off him.

"She's got a good appetite… She didn't have an appetite in the beginning. She scared us all for a bit, but she's a fighter and she pulled through," Blair told him. Unconsciously, he began to rock her back and forth, and the baby started drooping her eyes, relaxing into him.

Blair walked around and smiled at him. "She'll get used to you…"

Chuck finally stopped looking at the baby and stared at her. "I never thought I'd do this."

Blair nodded. "Neither did I."

He gulped. "Blair…"

"We'll care for her, Chuck… Like she's our own," Blair told him.

"As you wish," he nodded.

Jacob never expected to find Chuck rocking the baby or feeding her when he entered the nursery with Dorota behind him. Usually they took the baby to give Blair a few more hours of sleep, but they never expected his.

More unexpectedly, when Blair took Melanie from Chuck's arms, Dorota threw herself at Chuck and hugged him, crying.

Chuck looked alarmed.

Jacob looked amused.

Blair looked confused.

Dorota, of course, extracted herself from Chuck and quickly left with an apology as Jacob scurried after her.

"Are they…?" Chuck tried to comprehend what was happening.

"Yes, they have conjugal visits," Blair smirked, bouncing a happy and awake Melanie on her hip.

"Oh…"

She walked to him until he turned to look at the two girls. Blair's face was fresh and happy, and Melanie was half eating her hand and half smiling at him.

There they were. These were his girls. His girls to take care of. He'd always been destined to do this and this was where life had taken him.

He gulped and pressed his lips against Blair's forehead. They were relaxed until Melanie found his hair and tugged it harshly with a wide smile on her face.

----------

When Nate's body arrived, they held a small ceremony by the hill and lowered the casket into the spot next to Vanessa. Chuck had a stone made with both of their names, and Blair had a sappy love message inscribed under it. He pointed out the message had not been his idea.

It took Chuck months to be able to finally relax into the home he had once known. He had tracked down his estranged siblings and had made sure they were taken care of. They hardly spoke and, as the war ragged on, it was nearly impossible to get back to the states.

Finally one day, while Chuck worked over his papers and Blair instructed Jefferson on some of the food distribution, Melanie, who had taken her first baby steps, pulled herself up and placed her little hands on Chuck's knee.

"Dada…" she said clearly.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. Chuck blinked and stared down at her. Her eyes were wide as ever, her features delicate and soft, and her hair was now a mass of curls colored light brown.

"Dada," she repeated again, patting his knee with her hand.

"Oh, my God!" Blair screeched, startling the baby. Chuck had fallen in to a trance, realizing that, after months of caring for the baby, she was truly his. In her eyes, he'd be the only father she would ever know.

The baby got picked up and twirled and kissed as everyone made a whole happy mess of her first word.

That night, the baby fell asleep between them and they stared at her, transfixed.

"What are you going to do when she starts attracting boys?" Blair teased him. His eyes darkened as he stared at Blair.

"We're turning catholic," he replied.

"And you're going to put her in a nunnery?" She asked, smirk still in place.

"So we agree?" He asked, hopeful.

"You poor baby…" Blair shook her head, telling Melanie of the woes she would have growing up.

---------

_Thirteen Years Later_

She sat on the rock that overlooked the ocean, her dark hair dancing in the chilly autumn wind. She didn't know what to think. She just didn't. But then again, her young mind couldn't really understand all the events that had led her to this moment.

She felt him jog up the hill to find her there. She turned and saw the mop of blond hair as he tossed it back. He was tall and gangly and not sure of what to do with his body just yet.

"How long are you going to hide?" He demanded. Though he was a year younger than her, he was her very best friend. He read her like a book, and she hated it. She sniffed and turned back to the wind.

"You can't be mad at them," he demanded, and she shifted.

"Of course I'm not mad!" She snapped.

"Oh, c'mon, Mel…" He sat on the rock next to her, his taller frame looming over her. He nudged her with his shoulder, and she sighed.

"I just wish… I wish I knew what they looked like…" she said softly, playing with the orange leaf in her hand.

He shrugged. "Just look at yourself in the mirror."

She glanced at him and sighed. "I suppose you're right."

Little feet were heard in the distance, and they both groaned. A dark head popped up with equally dark eyes, long hair in curls with a perfect bow on her head. Her pale skin shined in the sun, and Mel saw a miniature version of her mother, one she had never seen in her own self.

"Mel! Paul!" The little voice cried and made its way up the little hill to face them on the rock. Her chest was rising and falling and her cheeks were flushed.

"Mom said I should give you space, but I wanted to know, Mel…" she inquired with dark inquisitive eyes. "Are you mad at me, Mel?"

A strong sense of guilt erupted from Mel's chest, and she looked down at her little sister. She'd seen her as a baby and now at seven, she was as pretty as she'd ever been.

"No, Eve. I'm not mad…" Mel said softly.

Evelyn nodded and tried to get up the rock, her little feet struggling to make it up with the big kids. Paul finally gave in and leaned over, pulling her up, making her squeak as her skirt flew up in the wind.

Evelyn huffed in true Bass fashion and settled herself between the two.

Mel went back to looking over the sea, and Eve, sensing sadness, leaned her head on her big sister's shoulder and kept it there.

"We're still sisters, right?" She asked quietly.

Mel looked down at her chocolate eyes and nodded, tucking a thick curl behind her small, pale ear.

"Sure, kid."

Eve smiled brightly. "Then why are you sad? Aren't you excited for the wedding tonight?" She asked, her little voice chirping like a bird.

"Yes…" Melanie shrugged.

"Then c'mon!" Eve tugged at her. "Mrs. Gilbert wants to check your dress."

Melanie sighed, and the two of them followed the demanding child down the hill and back to the house.

"Mommy!" Eve cried as she raced up the steps, nearly colliding into old Jefferson. "Mommy! I found Mel, and she says she's not upset with me!"

She cried as loud as she could while Paul snickered behind Mel, and she threw him a glare.

Blair emerged from the kitchen, in an impeccably casual dress, her hair pulled back into a pony tail as she stared at her youngest making a racket.

"Evelyn, why are you shouting?" She asked a breathless Eve.

Eve pointed her small finger to Mel, who lounged by the doorframe. "But, Mommy, Mel's not upset with me—"

"Keep your voice down!" Blair hissed, shaking her head at the mess her hair had become from the moment she last saw her. She bent down to kiss her. "Go find Dorota and have her fix your hair," she pushed her on. Evelyn, after pouting for a moment (and nearly stomping her foot), ran the other way, her feet intent on finding her nana.

Blair stared at Melanie, and then glanced at Paul.

"Paul, darling – why don't you let your mom know that Melanie will be right up for her dress fitting?" Blair instructed the young boy, who sulked slightly and then nodded. Melanie sighed and stared up at her mom.

"Look…" Blair explained softly. "I know I might have not carried you for nine months like I did with Evelyn, but… You're still mine…"

Melanie felt a harsh tug in her heart and, without thinking twice, embraced her mom. Blair quickly wrapped her arms around her, holding her head like she used to do as a baby and kissed her.

"I love you, Mom," Melanie said softly against her mother's familiar embrace. Blair swallowed and nodded, pushing back to look at her.

"I love you more, trust me…" she smiled at her and took a breath.

"I'm sorry about all the things I said… I was just confused and angry…" Melanie explained, her wide eyes begging for forgiveness.

Blair nodded, smiling at her. "I know, baby… I know."

Melanie gulped.

"Go find your father. He's been depressed for a while now…" she said, smiling down at her. Melanie nodded and headed to the place she knew she would find him. The stables.

He was instructing Mr. Grant, their elderly stable hand, on some changes he wanted made when she walked in casually. Mr. Grant spotted her and winked. She'd grown up learning stories about fairies and leprechauns from the man.

"Miss. Melanie," he tipped his hat and left. Her father turned to her slowly and stared.

She dared to look in his dark eyes, and when they stared at one another, she felt the horrible lump in her throat return. She dashed forward and hugged him. His arms went quickly around her, rocking her slightly.

"I'm sorry, Daddy – I didn't mean anything I said. You know I love you, Daddy!" She whimpered, and he kissed her head.

"I know, baby…"

"You're not mad?" She asked, her wide eyes staring at him. "You're not mad? Not even a bit?"

"Look…" His jaw tightened slightly. "Your mom and I… We never thought we'd have children… You coming along was a sadness at first, because of the circumstances… But then we loved you more than anything, and we never thought another would ever come… When Evelyn was born, we didn't expect her. For us, you were it," he said slowly, using that deep voice that had soothed her as a child.

She held on tighter.

"So don't ever think that we didn't want you or didn't love you… Once you started staring at people with those eyes of yours, we couldn't help but love you," he assured her.

She smiled at him, her dimples forming in her cheeks, and he smiled back at her.

"Did you talk to your mom? She's been depressed for a while now…" he wondered aloud, and Melanie smirked. She may not be their blood but she was theirs, and growing up knowing her parents taught her a lot about them. They hated being vulnerable, but if they were going to be vulnerable it would be around each other. They always thought they were slick, but she saw right through them. She and Eve had learned the ropes quickly.

"I will… But first I have to try on my dress. Why aren't you getting ready?" She inquired.

"I'm pretending she's not getting married," he nodded.

Melanie laughed. Her father was so silly and possessive at times.

"But daddy – she's like twenty-three!" She said as they walked to the front of the stables.

"Entirely too young," he said darkly.

"Wasn't mom that age when you married her?" She asked.

"I can't remember," he lied, and she smirked.

"Liar." She poked his ribs. "Besides, Ruby is completely in love."

"I don't like him," he complained, but at that moment the tall and gangly son of Gilbert bounced out the house and found them. He instantly saw how Melanie's eyes lit up and how they stared at one another. He glared at the boy.

"Mr. Bass." Paul spared him a nod. "Mom's ready, Mel – she's waiting for you."

"Ok," she smiled brightly at Paul and extracted herself from her father's arms, following the young boy.

Chuck's eyes narrowed as he watched them, chatting and smirking.

He had to find Blair. He had to find her now.

"We need to talk," he slid in behind her as she orchestrated a flower arrangement past the foyer.

"Now?" She demanded, sparing him a glance. He looked needy, so she agreed and followed him to his study, where he locked the door behind them and stared at her darkly. She arched a brow.

"I don't like this Paul kid…" he began.

Blair smiled instantly, understanding what was happening.

"I mean, she's only fourteen –"

"Two years younger than when you deflowered me?" she inquired, making him burst with bottled up stress.

"Why do you have to bring that up!" He snapped. "It was different back then!"

"What do you think will happen when we take them back to New York next month for the first time? She's stunning, and she _will_ get attention from every eligible, well-bred boy –"

"Why didn't we ever convert to Catholicism?" He demanded.

"Because you can't stop them from growing up?" She offered, walking to him and fixing his shirt, which was a mess. Obviously his Mel had tugged at it.

He placed his hands on her hips. "God's punishing me, I know it."

She smiled, with slick eyes. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he replied. "I'm surrounded by girls, and they're all… blossoming."

"So I suppose the combination of Ruby getting married, one of your daughters flirting, and the littlest one three years away from really noticing boys is bothering you?" She smirked.

"Eve is a baby! Why do you want to grow them up so quickly?" He demanded.

"I'm just teasing you, Bass." She pushed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck and nibbling his ear. He attempted not to let it affect him at first, but the minx was entirely too good at what she did.

"Hummm…" he moaned, grasping her hips tighter.

"Nice?" She murmured.

"Yes…" he hissed.

"So, I told Ruby they could use Melanie's old room for their wedding night – I thought it was fitting since –"

"No," he spat. "Absolutely not!"

"Miss Blair?" Dorota popped her head in, not abashed at finding them in that condition; she'd been finding them like that since they were seventeen. "Miss Ruby room ready."

"Thank you, Dorota –"

"No! Dorota, you take everything out –"

Blair stepped on his foot and smiled at Dorota. "That will be all."

"This is my house, too, you know. I'm the man of this house," he protested. She simply smiled indulgently.

"Yes, M'lord…" And she smiled into his mouth.

He let her kiss him, because what _was_ he going to do? He had, after all, dragged her across the ocean, brought her here to make her his wife, to save her. But the truth was that she had saved him. Saved him from his dark soul and made the world better for him. She had given him a family when he had none, she had given him hope and life and a possibility past all the horridness that their life had had the chance of becoming. Sure, they'd secluded themselves away from the world, but his family had been safe like he had intended them to be.

They called it the fifty-dollar effect. He never did tell her all the things she did and went through while he had been away from her. It wasn't that he kept them from her; it was that she loved him unconditionally, despite his darkest thoughts. She stood by him, and that made all the difference.

He'd become better because of her and, in turn, he'd seen her bloom into a special sort of perfection right before his eyes.

They may have not been basking in the lavish lifestyle of the Upper East Side, but they were still them. They were still Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck, and they were still in love.

Plus, it gave him leverage, all his little secrets. He knew she hid them, too. It made it exciting, using their little ammunition every so often. It kept things interesting. Like he hadn't informed her that Serena was finally going to come overseas next week. It was a surprise. She would try to physically hurt him at first but then run around excitedly.

It was those little things that made it worth while.

Plus, after all… All's fair in love and war.

-------

**The End**

A/N – I want to first of all thank Tati, my BETA who somehow keeps up with me and does a fantastic job, always. Then I want to thank everyone who took time out to let me know how much they enjoyed the story, I truly didn't expect so many people to enjoy it so it makes all the late nights of writing completely worth it. And of course we have to give props to our characters, Chuck & Blair, which without them we wouldn't have a story to begin with! Thank you once more, you all have been amazing! - Isabelle


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